Angel Of Music Among Other Things
by chicketieboo
Summary: Book 1:: Erik watches as RC destroy their marriage on their own terms. :Book 2: Erik has to adjust to his new life with Dani :Book 3: Dani is a young woman dying to sing, but she captures the hearts of two men, rewalking christine's footsteps.
1. Angel Of Music Among Other Things

Disclaimer: Andrew Lloyd Webber Wrote the Musical, Gaston Leroux Wrote the Original, and Susan Kay made the Masterpiece.

A/N OMG... what has it been, I think, 2 1/2 years. Wow. For those who have never read anything of mine, Hi! For those who remember me, and our hours together being creepy phan girls and boys.

Hey guys. Lavender, thank you for your review, I tried emailing but it just didn't work honey. I went back and read rebellion... I still have all those phanfictions on my computer. Anyways, back to those who haven't read my stuff. Hi everyone. I guess I should just make a few things clear. I have seen the movie. I didn't think it was terrible, but I admit, I was disappointed in some parts. I KNOW though that's just my obsessive compulsive nature taking over and me just wanting it to be EXACTLY the way I wanted it. Other then that, I've been a phan for over11 years. I have alot of years under my belt. ("I was a phan before you were even in diapers young missy!")

Therefore, go ahead and imagine about it whatever you wanna. If you liked Gerald Butler as the phantom? By all means, imagine his snexy face plastered all broodingly like to my little novella. Yet I like taking a little bit from everything phantom. I like referring to stuff from Kay, Webber, Leroux, and dare I say it, I might refer to Schumacher. Clear up a few things, Yes I did have this up before, but I realized I hadn't been giving it my undivided attention, and I would not have anything but my best.

Also, if people are going "huh, Nadir's in this?" sort of, I kinda explain his absence, and that Madame Giry is still the Ballet instructor. Later, I'll explain how I changed everything to make that possible. (I just love ALW's Madame Giry WAY too much to make her only the boxkeeper)

I HATE this quick Edit thing... it's REALLY not working for me, every time I upload something it looks like crap, does anyone have a solution?

**Chapter One: Angel Of Music Among Other Things **

**_"Angel of Music!  
Guide  
and guardian!  
Grant to me your  
glory!"_ **

As the carriage bumped and churned, Christine sat there mulling over the events of the last year. She thought of every little detail, every whispered word that had led her here, into Raoul's carriage, into his arms. After thinking over the time they spent last winter in the opera's off season, and the pre-honeymoon they had just taken, her thoughts finally rested on _him_. She thought on how her angel had turned out to be a devil, knowing deep within her heart, some parts of her did not care.

It was true; he had loved and hated her at the same time. He had tried to bend her will, and yet, strangely wished her to come to a conclusion herself. He had been her father when she needed one, and a passionate lover when she didn't. He had been her strange and seductive teacher, her enigmatic, callous and hurtful angel. It all had come down to one thing; one moment built on lust and hate, on love and mislead devotion. Even in the midst of the chaos, he had allowed her to make the choice.

Now she wondered if she had made the right one.

She had, she couldn't question that anymore, she couldn't keep allowing herself to think that the perfect life with Raoul was not what she wanted. After all, it was going to be perfect to be apart of Raoul's world. Christine felt a gentle squeeze on her hand; she looked down at the glove covering her own. She thought about how foreign it felt, the leather and lace entwined. She finally lifted her eyes to Raoul. His grin was uneasy, as if he knew just moments ago, she had been questioning her choice to run away with him, that she was still allowing the Phantom to enter her thoughts. Knowing he needed some reassurance, Christine flashed him a comforting smile, which allowed him to think again that she was completely and utterly his. At her confirmation, he seemed satisfied and turned again towards the window in the cab.

No! She couldn't keep reliving those last precious moments with her angel; they had parted their ways on the riverbank just weeks ago. If she were to keep up this reminiscing, she was afraid she would eventually end up resenting Raoul, and she truly did love him. She had since she was five years of age. Love like that doesn't just die, no matter what happens. Besides, that was all that really mattered now, Raoul and she were finally together after years of unending trials; and the Phantom, her Phantom was the past. The past was behind her. If she thought about what she left behind, which was nothing and everything all in one, she knew it was quite possible she might ask for the carriage to be stopped and beg Raoul like a mad woman to turn around.

As though the carriage had heard her traitorous thoughts, it halted so suddenly that it shook her stomach. Once completely stopped Raoul slowly climbed out and took her hand.

"Welcome to your new home, my love." he said gaily.

(' ) '  
-

**_"If he finds me, it won't ever end . . .  
and he'll always be there,  
singing songs in my head . . .  
he'll always be there,  
singing songs in my head . . ."_ **

The night surrounded him like the cloak he wore. The air was rather damp against his flesh, and he could smell the fresh rain that had fallen from the sky just minutes ago, as he clasped the fabric closer to his lithe frame. He had escaped his fate of death that Firmin and Andre had been so intent to assign him. Yes, he had scurried away like the _rat_ he was, and to him, it was blasphemous that he had. After all the pain he had caused his darling angel and others around him, it was quite obvious to almost everyone, including himself, he should have been condemned to a murder so brutal only he could imagine it. Besides, after everything he had been through, all the treachery he had done, she had been horrified with him killing Piangi, at a stage in his life where he had killed for less. He tried to remember a time when it had been harder for him to just,_ remove_ any obstacle standing in his way. That insufferable man! He had been ruining his maximus opus with his piteous acting and howling voice.

As for Bouquet, well the man had met his end at his own hands, not a mystery caused by the Phantom. Those were days long past, after everyone had already condemned him to a monster, and he realized the rules of the game where to either kill or be killed. If he didn't strike fear into their hearts, they would realize he was something that ruined their self-righteous world ordained by perfection, and they would see fit to rid themselves of him without another thought. After all, there were worst things then death, and he would know. Oh yes, he too was a perfectionist.

Unfortunately, his subjective conscious had reminded him that to wait for impending doom by giving into the murderous mob was too easy. In fact, it would be suicide, and he had never believed in that egotistical ritual of self-loathing. It was for the weak and above all things he was not weak, unless, it had to do with Christine. Besides, he had died in a different way. He had been so close! In the end, when she had kissed him, he knew it was really to save the boy's life, but in that moment, when their lips joined chastely, he felt heat rise from her and draw him into her heart as though it were a sanctuary. Those few moments were the most precious of his life, more so than any diamond or jewel Raoul could ever offer her, and he was sure that she felt it too.

He had lost his angel, the light at the end of his proverbial tunnel. Yes, the night surrounded him as it always had, engulfed him in the magic that comes along with it, and all he could hear was her sweet voice ringing through his ears. He laughed at the gravity of the situation, here he was standing outside the château Raoul had brought her too and he knew now that he had made the right decision to let her go.

She was an angel; literally, for if God knew a creature as beautiful and mystifying as Christine was running freely on earth, He would try to bring her back to the heavens she so rightfully belonged in. He realized he could not keep her locked up underneath Paris the rest of her life like he had been himself. No, she deserved so much more, so much more than he could give her, and he had given all he could give. So it had come to this, it was now it was this young man's turn.

_Even if the angels did not weep at her singing, this Angel did, for wasn't it I, her angel of music?_

That is when he made the decision, more of a promise to the young girl he passionately loved. He was her angel of music, but he could have been so much more. Yes indeed, he gave her all the knowledge he possibly could and she took that. As for his love, he had given her that too, and he would continue to do so until she died.

So what more could he give? He had once said he was her guardian and guide. The guiding force that would help her choose the right path's in life. He just wanted her struggles to be over, for her to find happiness in whatever she touched. He had never intended to be touched by her innocence. He decided would not stop or rest until he saw her live her days out happy.

He would be her angel forever, whether he was apart of her life or from a distance.

(' ) '  
-

**_"Past the point of no return  
the final threshold -  
the bridge is crossed, so stand  
and watch it burn . . .  
We've passed the point  
of no return . . ."_ **

Christine paced around the well-lit room all while looking around at her dwellings. It was a far cry from the small, cramped room supplied at the Opera Garnier while she had been working for the Populaire. She smiled faintly at the thought of the room with one oil lamp. The soft glow was always welcoming after a long day of rehearsal, her vanity in one corner, the bed in the other, and no windows to for the sun to make an appearance. She remembered that most distinctly, how hard it was to tell time in the large Opera house, since there was barely a place where the sun could be seen, and how it wasn't uncommon for someone to be asking you what time it was. She thought on the scent of the old wood, and how every board throughout the large Opera house had it's own distinctive creak. Then, of course, there always had been Erik, before she knew his name, when he was her angel of music and Raoul was some distant memory she never dreamt to resurface. Where would she be if Raoul decided that he did was not intent on supporting the Opera that season? Would she be in Erik's arms right now? Bathed in darkness, yet content? Her smile widened at the thought's of the small gifts he would leave her in the room when she pleased him. A single rose, a lovely comb, a note telling her she made him proud, all things that were dear to her heart. Now she was standing here in the large room that was to be hers until Raoul and she were wed. The large floor length windows that lead to a private balcony let too much sun in for her liking. Instead of cedar, oil and roses, the room smelt of moth malls and fresh linen. She looked to her vanity, which was much bigger than the Opera Populaire could ever afford to bestow on a chorus girl, there was a letter from the managers, Firmin and Andre. It's contents summed up in one question: did she wish to return?

Did she wish to return, or did she wish to stay as far away from the Opera house as possible? It was a question she did not know the answer too.

Raoul's thoughts were set that she should. She had always loved the stage and, according to him, it lit up with her presence. Society be damned, yes she was to be a Vicomtess, but he supported her, and if others had a problem with it, he would deal with their gossip and disapproval. Andre and Firmin surely wanted her to return as well, or they wouldn't or written to her. After all, she never truly had known how they had felt about her singing. Carlotta had left the stage since the death of her husband, Piangi, so the role of Prima Donna was left open. Was she really wanted back, or like Erik, did Raoul pressure them since he was patron of the Opera Garnier's company, the Opera Populaire?

Erik.

She sat down in her chair and sighed. Slowly she entwined the lace of her dress between her fingers. Surely, he would not be there anymore, for if he had lived through the murderous mob, he would have moved on. Was he even still alive after she had left him? _Always so melodramatic Christine, quite vain, you leaving Erik may have not KILLED him_. Yet was that what she was disappointed about? Did she feel there was no point if her angel wasn't there to leave her approving notes and soft-pedaled roses? No, wasn't it; it was the memories, the sad and terrifying memories.

She picked up the pen and started to scratch the blank parchment in front of her.

_"Dear Monsieur's..." _

Then she put it down. She couldn't deal with such a loaded decision right now. She was going to go out for a ride.

She went to the stables and chose her horse." Come Phantom." She clucked and laughed at the irony. Raoul had named the horse long before he had even seen her again, and when they had first visited the stables when she arrived at this house, he was afraid that she wouldn't like the strong black steed. However, she was drawn to the horse, black as night and surprisingly strong. Raoul expected her never to ride him, mostly because he still found the subject of the last year of their life rather taboo. She still couldn't figure out if it was because he hadn't believed her for so long, or because he too realized that in the end, she was still undecided as to whom she really _did_ want to be with. Oh yes, she knew her mind screamed Raoul, yet she couldn't deny what she had told the phantom in her father's graveyard… her soul did obey him more than she would have liked too. Therefore, Raoul was still sometimes visibly upset when she did ride the horse that brought up memories, although he tried to hide it. He never would say of course, straight out that he didn't like her riding him but she could see his jaw clench when she told him she was heading off to the stables

_Poor, dear, sweet Raoul,_ she thought. _He went through so much trouble_. She had put him through so much. After that entire dilemma, he still welcomed her into his life with open arms. He still wished her to be his wife. She smiled, soon they would be married and everything would be all right. Erik was most likely dead. She would never see him again, so she could devote her life to Raoul.

(' ) '  
-

**_"A freak of nature . . .  
more monster then man . . ."_ **

He looked off into the distance and saw her heading towards the stables. She had a beautiful blue silk dress parted down the center with white lace peaking out. Her neckline was considerably high and peered out underneath a large black cloak. Her brown curls fell down her back and bounced as she walked towards the magnificent creatures in their cages. She then chose a black stallion, who he had had his eye on for some time.

"He would have been my choice as well, my dear." He said silkily under his breath.

He looked up towards the sun that outlined his body. It had been many years since he had been out in the day, and if he had any friends to relay how peculiar the situation was, he would have. Sadly, he thought of Nadir and Madame Giry, both caring and stern personal friends.

_"Erik? " He heard Nadir shout, "Erik, dear friend... Please say something if you are indeed still down here!"_

_Erik sat amongst the scores of music, all torn and ripped to shreds... years of work wasted. He didn't even think upon it, he couldn't grasp the situation before him. He had heard Nadir's rough, but kind words, and he still stared deeply at the monkey in Persian robes, reliving over and over her scent, the softness of her skin, the wonder in her deep eyes, the love that engulfed him in those brief seconds._

_"Erik, Praise Allah... Erik, are you alright?" Nadir asked his friend, sitting there. "I had suspected they would come down here when I saw you take Christine. Where is she Erik, what have you done to the Vicomte?"_

_If Erik had been paying attention he would have found the change in Nadir's voice from concern to reprimand quite amusing._

_"Erik you killed Piangi didn't you? Did you kill the girl and her fiancé?" Nadir asked frantically. "ERIK please! You must tell me! Or I shall go to the sur..."_

_"No." He quietly offered, never looking up from the monkey. _

_"No?" Nadir repeated._

_"No I didn't kill her or her fiancé," he quietly told Nadir... He couldn't say her name; he couldn't say _his _name._

_"What about Piangi?" Nadir shakily asked him._

_"It was an accident... I was trying to scare him. I wanted him to be too frightened to return to the stage, so I may take his place... I didn't realize he would struggle; I was just so consumed with thoughts of us on stage... I didn't... ease... I'm... so sorry..." Erik softly and brokenly whispered._

_"I was so fed up with being a monster, so intent to prove that I was really a man, I ended up crossing a line and proving them all right. Erik, lover of trap doors, personal assassin for the shah still lives on!" he yelled holding his head in his hands._

_"Erik... your music... everything..." Nadir replied... it was all he could say, how could he reply to Erik's cry of despair when it rang true. Murder was still murder, and although Nadir did care for his friend and knew that there would always be times when things like this might happen, he was always torn between disappointment with Erik and disappointment with the world._

_"Nadir... just go... you have nothing to fear dear friend. But it is time for you to stop living for my soul and start living for yourself. Believe me you will never have anything to fear from 'the phantom' ever again." He stated, and then stood from the floor where he had sat._

_Nadir realized how young he looked just then, like he was reliving moments from when he was ten or so... the tear tracks had dried leaving a broken pattern down his scarred and torn visage. His lack of hair was mused all over and he felt suddenly guilty he had seen his most elegant friend in the throws of his own pitiful demise._

_As Erik walked towards Nadir, he slowly pulled the catgut from his belt, and handed it to his friend._

_"Here Nadir... The Punjab Lasso... I haven't a use for it now. If I'm ever in trouble, I shall either embrace my fate, or fight it with these hands." Erik said looking down at his long fingers._

_"They may get dirty, but they've been soaked in blood many times."_

Nadir had moved from Paris as far as he knew, to England. It was amusing to Erik that one of his oldest friends may fit in better with the more proper English than the passionate and stubborn French.

Now, all he could think of as the sun shone down upon him, was how before the risk had been too high to wander in daylight. No one would understand now, and the only person that had truly understood him, now was about to ride off into the distance with high priced garments and an expensive steed. For a split second, he loathed her, hating her for her departure, abandonment. He thought of tearing the fine silks from her body and laughing at her cruelly for feeling naked like he did without his mask. As suddenly, as they had reared their ugly heads, his rage and contempt receded back into him. He had learned they were always looming and lurking in the shadows of his mind, making him feel guilty for thinking such things of his angel, but not enough to feel the need to apologize for such thoughts.

Slowly he climbed down the hillside to get a better look at the surrounding grounds. It was then he found it was very difficult in a suit, waistcoat, cravat and a cloak, but he managed as best he could. He smiled coyly as he reminisced on how everyone thought he was a master of grace. If they only knew how often he walked the halls of the Opera house, how it was more or less apart of him. His grace was connected to how well he knew his home, and on solid ground he was more graceful then any ballerina. It just took familiarity. Thoughts of music usually helped, but now, he was songless, an empty void that no music could fill. Silently, he watched as she mounted her horse and kicked gently to get the horse to begin its trot.

He smiled faintly; she seemed so elegant even when she rode.

He watched as she took off in another direction before he dared to move again. Then, when he was sure she had left the area for good, he began to walk up the mountainside, until he was deep into the trees. That night was spent in the forest amongst the stars, it had been a beautiful sight, and though he would love to do it again, he soon realized he had to find living quarters. He certainly couldn't go back to the Theatre; for he had tried that after the police had left. Unfortunately, they had blocked off the tunnels with sand bags. He didn't know if they intended to permanently fill them in with concrete or not later. He imagined sardonically, going back down to his lair and being trapped underneath the Opera house, a large, and rather appropriate tombstone, where the music could be his epitaph.

_Oh those catacomb's,_ He thought. The catacombs had been his haven for a large portion of his life, now he could never return, and all for the price of a love he never truly received.

No, he would find somewhere to belong. So he began to walk through the forest, looking at all it's splendor. He had not seen such beauty since he had seen Christine's face up close. No, he would stay here amongst the forest, and it would be his new mask.

He would trade one beauty for another.


	2. Give Up Forever

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I shouldn't have to say who does.

**AN -** BACK! Okay, so I worked alot this week so it took me a little while. It's weird how all the reviews didn't go away after I took the story down... weird...shrugs oh well. Here's a revamped chapter two! Lavender! Email me... Remember the days? Remember Fordgirl? I still talk to her. Man... Remember my website? lol...

**Chapter Two: Give up forever **

_**"Who was that shape  
in the shadows?  
Whose is the face  
in the mask?"** _

Before the next nightfall, Erik had found a small neglected cabin about a kilometer from the Vicomte's estate. While he went through it, he found old gardening tools causing him to believe that it was probably an old gardening shed for the mansion. With a little work, he could do something with it, but what he found to be the most pleasing aspect of it was how, if he just used his opera glasses, he could make out the figures walking around the house. Even still, during the day, he came down to where the road and ridge of forest met and sat among the trees and watched.

Before the first fall of snow, the cabin was suitable and cozy enough that he could live there peacefully. Little by little, he had gone into town and bought clothing and furniture for the small place. It was a good thing that he had managed to retrieve his purse before escaping, or he would have been in a terrible position he realized.

He began a constant routine of getting up in the morning, eating, leaving his small residence, and then getting close enough he could to the chateau to watch Christine, as though her life was some interesting opera that just had to be viewed in entirety. He would watch for hours until it grew to cold or late and he would return to his humble and cramped dwellings. Nonetheless, Christine had developed bit of a routine herself. Everyday around two in the afternoon she would go for a ride on the black stallion, he had decided to name _Midnight. _When she first began her ride, she would always just begin a trot, but when she was sure no one was around to notice, pick up the pace and have the horse gallop wildly off into the distance. Her hair was always down, flowing long tresses down her back making her quite a remarkable sight. He would wait on her return, which was usually an hour later, noticing she always seemed content and rejuvenated. Sometimes she was even a little flushed, as though she had some forbidden release on her journey.

Other than that he noticed that the boy took wonderful care of her and they were, much to his resentment, happy. It ate away at him to see such simplicity that he would never have. A wife who loved him, a family in the future, and what was a lovely home that was _above_ ground. That was not God had intended for him, if there was even a God. No, he was cursed and blessed all in one, a normal life, for genius. As he would watch them picnic in their immense backyard, and he could see that if he couldn't have her, then Raoul was the perfect second. He treated her like a goddess as he did, even if he didn't challenge her to explore herself beyond simplicity and expectations, as he had done.

_"I mustn't criticize."_ He thought begrudgingly to himself. It wasn't worth it knowing that she was indeed happy with her Vicomte.

If Erik had only known that the Vicomte and soon to be Vicomtess were in extreme danger, he would of stepped out of the shadows he often preferred and offered what little help he could of given.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**"Think of me,  
think of me fondly,  
when we've said  
goodbye.  
Remember me  
once in a while -  
please promise me  
you'll try."** _

"Christine, I have to go away again." Raoul told her as they sat in our backyard watching the light dwindle away into darkness.

"Oh Raoul, Again?" She asked saddened, for she did not like it when he left. Whenever he was around, she truly was blissful, with not a care in the world. Once he left and she was alone, she found it gave her time to think upon haunted memories. No matter how far she pushed them into the depths of her soul they always returned.

"Yes my love. It has to do with an investment I made. I'm withdrawing my services from a company. Not that this should matter to you love. However, on the moment of my return we shall be Wed. Please trust in this, and think of it on the nights I'm away." He said kissing her.

She smiled at his kindness. "Alright love, however, promise to be home as soon as possible." She added.

"I promise." He said kissing her again.

(' ) '  
-

_**"Fear can turn to love  
you'll learn to see, to find the man  
behind the monster: this . . .  
repulsive carcass, who  
seems a beast, but secretly  
dreams of beauty,  
secretly . . .  
secretly . . .** _

Yet, Christine did not think of Raoul's return, or their marital bliss upon his return. Instead, she thought of the many enchanted nights she had spent with her dark angel, her enticing Phantom.

_"Erik... tell me a story..." Christine pleaded. She had accompanied him for supper of wine and bread for the last few weeks, since the mask 'incident' had taken place. Since the Gala, and her enormous success, they both had expected her to be replacing Carlotta, only to find that the managers were completely against her return to the stage. Christine thought it was possible that Piangi had something to do with it as well, that it was possible he told the managers that if Carlotta were to go, then he would be gone as well. Christine could replace Carlotta, but she could not sing the both leading parts!_

_Things had indeed been tense between her and her teacher, he had come to her after her rest and their first encounter. She awoke to see him standing at her vanity tracing the outlines of a note she had carelessly left out and that he had given her. All she could see was the pristine white mask and his impeccable grooming, leaving her a little light headed and warm. When he had realized she was awake, he turned to her, and she saw something flash in his eyes._

_Desire maybe? Perhaps it was infatuation? Whatever it had been, it receded into the depths of his facade and the cool collected man that had brought her down to his kingdom below returned._

_"Erik please... a story?" she inquired. She was trying to brighten the atmosphere, have him stop musing over whatever was making his face look so tragic. She had listened to his ever command since she was a small child, and although she mildly resented his betrayal, she had learned that half of her still did not care that he was not a real angel. After she removed his mask and he had unleashed his anger on her, he had retreated back into himself only asking her to obey two wishes. She was to 1) Never speak of his mask or what lie beyond it again, let alone remove it. And 2) she was to not allow Raoul to affect her training as the new Prima Donna for the Opera Populaire._

_She found the first to be a given, after realizing what the mask had been hiding... her poor Erik, how she pitied his face, his loathing. But she found the second request almost impossible to grant. Ever since Raoul had heard her sing, he had been inquiring for her on a daily basis. He often left roses, notes and requests to share time with her. To appease Erik, and to grant his request, the only real way to avoid Raoul's advances was to spend her evenings with her teacher, which was turning out rather well._

_Except for the undeniable tension that was between them sometimes. In which, Christine would always find him staring at her intently, or she would feel heat rush from one place on her body to another. This was what was happening now; this was why she was so desperate for him to speak._

_"A story Christine, what, dare I ask, are you in the mood for hearing?" He asked quietly, giving into her simple request._

_"Oh anything lovely and tragic. I merely wish to hear you speak... Silence can be wonderful, but to fill it with a voice as yours would be a gift."_

_"Silence Christine, is a form of music itself... depending on how you listen." he responded, confusing her and making her even more uncomfortable._

_Just when she thought he was going to take her home or send her to her room, he spoke again._

_"Something, with love perhaps?" He asked her._

_"Oh yes! I do love a tragic love story." Christine smiled, glad that he finally was willing to talk to her._

_"How about Beauty and the Beast, by de Beaumont?_ _" He asked her._

_"I have heard of the tale, but never actually known what it is about, will you tell it to me, angel?" She asked him._

_He smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that she had seen before, and the one that she had been so intent to get rid of. Before she could protest, he began to recite the story, as if he knew it off by heart._

_"There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters..."_

Her Erik.

Was it wrong she had never told Raoul of the time they had spent before he had killed Bouquet? She did not know. She saw no point now, since she had indeed chosen Raoul over her angel of music. Still, she felt guilty, as though she had betrayed both of them in ways she could not describe.

"This is absolutely silly! I cannot keep doing this to myself!" She said shoving her face into the pillow on the other side of her bed. Erik was gone, most likely dead from the mob, and even if he did escape them, he surely wasn't going to return to face more torture she was accustomed to dealing out to him.

Would she forever feel that she had let down the man behind the monster, or her own beast? He had once told her that fear could turn to love. Was that what she was experiencing now?

She got up and paced the long corridors of the large house. Raoul had insisted that she should stay with Mme Giry and Meg while he was away the first time he had ever taken a night trip. However, Christine would hear nothing of it, she was determined to prove to everyone she wasn't the child they all thought she was and the only was she was going to do that was by becoming a wonderful wife and mother.

(' ) '  
-

_**"When you find  
that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free  
- if you ever find  
a moment,  
spare a thought for me"** _

He watched as the Vicomte ascended into a carriage that awaited him while Christine stood outside it watching Raoul intently. Erik watched as he leant out the window and Christine blew him a kiss. Slowly the carriage began to move away from her and she wrapped her shawl closer to her small body. She stood that way for some time, staring off in the direction in which Raoul had left, watching the twilight turn to darkness.

That's odd, Erik thought to himself, if it where I who won such a treasure, I would not be leaving her alone so early.

Oh, how he wanted to go down to her. There was an ache inside him, which could simply be quelled by pressing her body to his own. He had found warmth in her small caresses that filled him with such satisfaction and relief. He had never really realized how starved he was for it until he had a small taste of its joys. Now he craved it like a mad addiction. Find a way into the house and just watch her quietly. His mind whispered to him. Erik reasoned with himself, justifying this action by telling himself that he didn't want to harm or touch a hair on her head, just admire her from as close as he could. It took ever power of his will to stay away.


	3. Dangerous Liaisons

Disclaimer: How can you own someone who really existed?

**Chapter Three: Dangerous Liaisons **

**_In sleep he sang to me,  
in dreams he came . . .  
that voice which calls to me  
and speaks my name . . . _**

"I'm sorry gentlemen but I'm herby relinquishing my funding from this moment on. I have come to realize that you have made no progress what so ever; that it is costing me more to keep the winery running then it would be to shut it down. At one point, before I was married, I may have been more frivolous with my money, however it's plain to see I'm wasting my time." The Vicomte said picking up his hat standing so he might leave. He had opened the winery as a side venture in hopes to raise his standings among society. Why, what would be more enticing then a Vicomte, but a Vicomte with his own private winery? However, the plan had failed before it begun, no one in the highest of society was impressed and the merlots were mediocre, at best. Now that he had Christine, his love for the limelight had decreased. He knew the vicious rumors they spread about her past, and he gave up the Gala's and the parties of Paris to love her for eternity.

"Vicomte De Chagny, Vicomte! Please Monsieur; you do not understand how dire the circumstances are here at the winery. If you do not support us, we all will have no job and starve. Think of the children." The old man said pointing outside to the children who were playing outside amongst the rows of grapes.

They were young and beautiful, as far as Raoul could tell, it was though they were cherub angels dancing and giggling while amusing themselves with such trifle things like running around. He thought back to another angel who seemed so innocent. Christine.

Why even she was not technically higher in birth than these children, and he was ready to marry her without a second thought…

Was the old man right? Should he still fund this dying cause? These people had nowhere else to go, and he couldn't bare the thought of the responsibility, knowing that he had cast away these relatively happy people. It was all up to him.

Then it hit him, he asked himself what would Christine do? She would be appalled if he did not give them a second chance.

Sighing, he gave into the old man's plea.

"Alright Monsieur I will be back in a year. ONE year to see the progress reports on this broken down winery, and if they do not meet my standards then I will be forced to renounce my duties and close it down."

(' ) '  
-

**_And do I dream again?  
For now I find  
the Phantom of the Opera is there -  
inside my mind . . . _**

Erik walked slowly along the dark and worn down path. Beauty like this reminded him why he preferred night to the brash light of day. The dark mysteriousness of it had appealed to him for more reasons just then the horridness of his face and the non-existent crowds of people. The trees seemed more ominous, the stars more interesting then a blue sky. Not that he saw a blue sky on many occasions. Paris was beautiful, but the rain loved Paris too, making it just as rare to see the stars, as it was to see the sun.

He stopped as he reached the property. The lush green grass stretched out in front of him for some time, so far that even from the edge of the grass he could see into Christine's second story window. The drapes were not closed and the bed was close enough to the glass panes he could see her lying upon the bed. He had not planned to go by the house that night; he had not planned to come into extremely close contact with the Vicomte and his soon to be wife, ever.

However, thoughts of Raoul not in the house, and of no one but servants and Christine there, enticed him.

He could see her now, stretched out lazily on her bed, asleep with a small smile on her face. Lowering his head he realized if he could only see that innocent smile once more, even if he couldn't keep his promise of watching over her till the day she die, he would die a happy man in possession of that singular smile.

Slowly he looked up from his feet to find himself in front of her balcony. He pondered the time, and took out the pocket watch he recently bought. It was nearly one in the morning, meaning most likely everyone would be asleep.

Slowly, with his cat-like grace, he climbed the drainpipe to her room. Every muscle from his weak body ached, but not more than the heart ached he was in at the thought of never coming close to her again. It was as he was climbing he decided that it was worth trading the physical pain for emotional bliss.

As he reached her balcony, he found her just the way he suspected too. There she was, the beautiful angel lying with half her face deep in a pillow smiling contently. The covers were around her body and her arm was out of the covers, under her pillow, revealing a sheer nightgown. He moaned outside her window and the thought of her innocent suggestion. Christine somehow had a way of making him think thoughts that any gentlemen at heart would be appalled at. Then again, he wasn't a gentleman, was he? No, he was a loathsome vile creature who, if he were a gentleman, should be ashamed of standing there outside her window. He wasn't though, and he found himself wondering after all this time, if she would be disgusted as well.

Erik knew that Christine was a child still, in so many ways. Naive, imaginative, a dreamer... And of course, that was an attraction in itself, against her will she was seductive, never knowing that her innocents was the most appealing thing to every man she came across. All that loved her bathed in the glow of the light she shone, and no man ever wanted to willingly continue in darkness after her drugging presence. After all, there is a light shines on everyone, and for a short while, she had on him. Now, he was bathed in darkness once more. Only a glimpse of the warmth of her rays remained.

He slowly opened her balcony door and crept into the room, only to slide into the chair beside her bed. Sitting there, he watched her rosy cheeks glow along with the smile and listened to her heavy yet steady breath.

He thought to the last time she had seen him. He himself knew that it was very hard for him to be confused, especially by anyone of inferior intelligence.  
Nevertheless, Erik admitted to himself that she had not only confused him but also baffled him. One minute she had told him she had hated him, with eyes cold and hurtful, only to kiss him the next minute.

That kiss, oh dear lord that exquisite kiss. She had not kissed him just once, but twice in those last moments.

That was what perplexed him the most. He had thought over those precious moments time and time again, analyzing them, reliving them, finding joy and sorrow. He remembered that her lips, felt like rose petals, and her soft mouth, tasted of saline, from both his tears and her own. He had concluded that rationally, she had only done it to save her true love, but his heart told him something different.

At first, the kiss had been apprehensive on her behalf; he could sense the tension in her lips, the stiffness of her back, it was still more than he could ever hope for, the feeling of them sent shivers down his spine.

Yes at first, she had been tense, then to everyone's surprise, including he was sure, the Vicomte's, she had softened up. Her mouth opened slightly and deepened the already blessed action. When she did finally pull away, he looked at her in disbelief, believing he'd see pity and disgust in her beautiful blue eyes. Instead, he found wonder, he saw the awe in her eyes, the wonder of her actions her own bout of intrigue and confusion. When they joined again, he felt her desire, her want, and knew that she had surrendered to him finally, when he was so sure he would never know what it was like to be loved by Christine Daaé.

She had truly kissed him, not through force, for he had been quite satisfied with what he had been offered. When they pulled away the second time, gasping for air, he saw her smile softy, as though they both shared a secret that they would keep just between them until they were both dead. She had kissed him full fledge with the passion he knew she possessed deep down in her soul. Her kiss was her song, her voice, everything she loved in one single simple act of fulfillment. Still, he could not tell her what she wanted to know; she would have to figure it out for herself.

If he hadn't sent her away, she would of stayed with him down there for the end of time, and he knew it. He knew that she had finally given him her heart and she was confused as to how it happened.

"Take her, leave me..." He had said to the young man who had watched in the same awe he had felt. _Poor little Raoul,_ Erik thought smugly. _He has no clue that she is lost to him._

Now, if only Christine could figure it out. No, she wouldn't, he realized. She wouldn't give a second thought to all those dark desires that possess her deep within. All those desires he awoke with simple touches and caresses with his voice. All his thoughts of her returning to his arms where a fantasy that would never be played out.

"Erik?" She whispered softly.

His heart froze, in the small amount of time he had spent recalling those memories he had looked away. Now he had been caught sitting here by her side. Tensing, he waited for her harsh words of hate, but they never came. Finally, he turned to look at her, only to find she had whispered them in her sleep. He let out a sigh of relief.

_Why did she tease him so?_ He looked at the soft lips curl even more into a smile as he let a tear slip.

"Christine..." He whispered.

"Erik..." She whispered again. He knew her to talk in her sleep many times at the opera and even underneath his underground lair. Therefore, this did not surprise him.

"Erik, where are you?" she said having lost her smile.

"Erik do not go!" She whimpered.

"It is alright my angel, I shall never leave your side." He said brushing a curl out of her face.

"Erik, I miss you..." She said with relief.

_You do?_ He thought. This was news to him.

"I am sorry I never told you goodbye," she said having a sob escape her.

"You did, perhaps, in your own way..." He said hesitating, was she awake?

"No, I was cruel and never explained myself. I loved you and now your dead..." She said.

_I AM DEAD?_ He thought.

His heart exploded in two, one side leaped with joy for she had said the words of love he had longed for. Oh, how he wept now, knowing that she had meant her kiss. Yet another part of him wept knowing that she thought he was gone. Out of her life, forever. How fate was cruel indeed. The one persons love that mattered the most was tainted by thoughts of death.

His death. He truly knew not what to do, but knew that he could not inform her of his existence. She believed she was speaking to an angel, a ghost.

She then let out another whimper. "I shall never forgive myself..." She said.

"Christine, listen to me you, did nothing wrong. Not anything at all. I must go now, but do know this. I love you, I have always loved you, and I always will." slowly he took off the ring that belonged to her.

He had given it to her to keep her by his side, and she had given it back to him in a last dire attempted to stay.

"This is yours, take it and remember me whenever you see it." He said placing the ring by the pillow.

Slowly he walked over to the balcony doors and opened them gently. He looked back to the sleeping figure on the bed behind him.

"Good bye, my angel of music..." She softly whispered.

Erik sighed as he climbed down from her bedroom.

He had always wanted to be dead, and now more than anything he had ever felt, he wanted to be alive.


	4. Moving on

**Chapter Four: Moving on **

_**Think of it!  
A secret engagement!  
Look - your future bride!  
Just think of it!** _

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The catholic priest announced and for the first time since their vows on the roof, Raoul kissed her on the lips. If Christine hadn't been so happy and at peace, she would of noticed how her thoughts registered the simple kiss as one of protection, not full of passion, just as it had always been with Raoul. He was her guardian angel, when Erik had been her angel of music.

Music had been her passion, her life, and when she kissed the embodiment of that music that raged in her soul, the kiss had been deeper and darker then she had ever experienced.

She looked into Raoul's eyes as the walked away from the priest, and she saw something that she couldn't place. Behind the blind happiness, she was sure she saw a hint of pride. Before she could ask him what he was thinking, Philippe was at his side.

"Well now that THAT'S over with," he said rather awkwardly.

"Oh brother, when will you learn? It's never over, it's only just begun." Raoul said teasingly.

Christine may have been offended but she'd come to accept Philippe's ways. It wasn't that he hated her; he just cared for Raoul as a father would and didn't want any harm to come of him. She was sure that Philippe knew that the wedding was one of a love match, and that he was just concerned with what people thought of the de Chagny's.

"Yes, well… Christine, you looked… pleasant up there." Philippe coughed.

"Thank you, dear brother." She said smiling and bowing her body a touch. She caught the look in his eyes, the one that was warm and approving. Yes, she knew that Philippe cared for her; it was just that being a Comte was still apart of him too, and he must keep up appearances.

"I shall have to steal away your new husband to discuss the winery he should have closed down." He said a little warily at Raoul. Before she could hear his protestations, Philippe had guided Raoul away from Christine.

Looking around, Christine was suddenly intimidated by the amount of people who were here standing in her backyard. Raoul and she had decided to have an outside wedding. It was as the new rage, and seen as rather unconventional. It had taken a lot to decide on the whereabouts, however it led down to what they wanted, not what people thought was right or wrong. After all, Raoul did marry her and she could tell now by many of the faces, they had thought it was an extreme error on his part. She walked over to the refreshment table where Andre and Firmin were standing and gossiping worse then old hens. Smiling faintly, she felt more comfortable in their presence then her own brother in laws.

"Hello monsieur's," she said capturing their attention.

"Ah! Christine, just the Angel we were talking about. We are indeed happy with your decision, we just hope that you don't pull another disappearing act!" Firmin said sipping his champagne.

"FIRMIN!" Andre said disapprovingly. He smiled awkwardly at Christine, hoping it had not offended. Christine found it amusing how they bantered and watch the horror and realization pass over Firmin's features at what he had said.

"Oh dear, I um… do apologize sincerely Vicomtess." Andre took Firmin by the elbow and veered him away from the beverages going on about how Firmin had drunk enough wine for one evening.

"… And an outdoor wedding! How brazen… why she's no more common then a…"

"Don't say it Marguerite, she's a Vicomtess now."

"Ha! Isn't that a lark, I still don't see why Philippe would allow Raoul to marry some _chorus_ girl. I mean, how do they know she hasn't been…"

"Enough Marguerite, it is not our place."

"I'm just saying Genevieve, I would have never allowed it. Now she's going back to that opera house. I swear, the de Chagny's are going to be crossed off a few guest lists… I'm sure." Christine felt as though a blow hit her stomach. So that was what they really thought of her, some common… whore was what they were going to say. They had said chorus girl like it was filth, like she was no more then a prostitute.

"Christine!" Meg screeched in blind happiness. Christine pushed the tears away and watched the small dancer come running towards her, nearly tripping over the long brides maid dress that she was not use to wearing. To Christine's knowledge, Meg was not use to wearing dresses period, and as she thought on it more, she couldn't remember a time she had seen Meg in something that didn't belong to the costume department.

"Christine it was simply marvelous, you looked exquisite! Maman cried! I have never seen such a sight! Firmin and Andre said they have never seen such a beauty as you! Does that mean you will be returning? Are the rumors of your return to the Opera Garnier as the new Prima Donna true? Is that champagne?" Meg said speeding, passed Christine towards the drinks behind her.

She laughed at her friend's happy exterior, while on the inside she was terrified. There was too many people here, staring and gossiping. Her Raoul was a man of stature and society; she was just a lowly theatre rat.

She had always known most had thought that Raoul would have his little affair and be off with her, knowing she could never be a suitable wife. Still, he had proved them all wrong when he said his vows to her in the gardens, in front of them all.

"Are you alright my love?" Raoul said from behind her and she turned.

His handsome face was plagued with worry, and she couldn't help but smile at the care he was displaying.

"Of course, dear. I was just noticing your brother and Meg talking in the corner." She said pointing in the corner. Meg was laughing and positively vibrant with joy; making many men take notice of her. Philippe seemed deep in conversation with her, his whole body and demeanor stiff and rigid, but smiling no less.

"Maybe you set an example for him, and he no longer thinks he's above the everyday ballet theatre rat." she said with a mischievous smile she rarely showed most.

"Maybe." He said with a smile and pecked her lips. Again, Christine looked at all the masked disapproving faces at her. They reminded her of the masquerade ball, all wearing masks to hide their true feelings.

"Masquerade, paper faces on parade, Hide your face so the world will never find you..." She hummed to herself.

"What's that Christine?" Raoul asked her, in fact not hearing what she hummed.

"Nothing, love, let us dance." She said extending her hand to him so he could lead her to the floor. If she were to be the center of attention for this little charade, then she might as well do what she could do best.

She would give them a show.

(' ) '  
-

_**Say you want me with you,  
here beside you . . .  
Anywhere you go  
let me go too -  
Christine  
that's all I ask of . . .** _

_You._

_It has always been you Christine, and always will be, and now knowing how you feel,_ his thoughts trailed off. He could hear the music being played below, and he felt a piece of his heart stuck in his throat.

_I refuse to look, I refuse to look, I refuse to look!_ He thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to sing to himself.

"Masquerade, paper faces, on parade..." but still the harmonious music played on, filling his ears, his home, and his soul.

The sweetness of it was all the more bitter for him, for he knew it was her wedding, and he should be standing beside her, he should be the one down there dancing, and laughing and playfully bantering back and forth.

Damn her for doing this to him still, how could he be so blind? She was only good for one thing and that was dealing him blows that made him stagger.

How could he blame her? He loved her, and as fate would have it, she loved him back.

How stupid of him to think he could be her guardian angel without the pain that it would cause, he must face the facts.

He was not her father.

He was not her husband.

He was just the man who loved her.

(' ) '  
-

**_Can it be?  
Can it be Christine? _ **

**_Bravo!_ **

**_What a change!  
You're really not a bit  
the gawkish girl that once you were..._ **

Raoul spun Christine around the dance floor happily laughing at the sudden change in her. She was back to his Christine, for rarely did she drift off into space like she use too, a habit that she developed after leaving the shadows of the phantoms underground lair.

No, when he returned, she was very welcoming and happy, saying she had made peace with her ghost, that he had returned to her in slumber to say his final goodbye.

Oh how happy he was that things turned out the way they did, for he knew that at this very moment he could be laying at the bottom of the icy underground lake, instead of gazing into his wife's soft blue eyes.

He had always really underestimated Erik's power until he was praying for his life on the end of the Punjab lasso. He had thought that his life was over until he had given Christine back.

He had given her back! Oh how glorious that was. He did not like Erik, but could no longer hate him, knowing that he undeniably loved her as much as he. Raoul was willing to die so she could be free, and Erik was too, because without her, he surely did die.

Of course, if he ever saw Erik he would have to call the Sûreté, the man was a murderer and should pay for his crimes against society. He did not know if what Christine said was true, but he doubted that he was still alive.

Of course, the phantom could escape the mob, but Erik wasn't a phantom, he was a man.

A man that was surely captured and dead.

(' ) '  
-

_**You alone  
can make my song take flight -  
it's over now, the music of the night . . .** _

Christine awoke in the perfect way.

The sun shone lazily through her curtains and the bird chirped out a beautiful melody to fill the quiet air.

She sighed and closed her eyes again to remember her dreams from the previous night.

Erik had come to say goodbye, and she had poured out all the pain she had been harboring inside of her. No longer would she be distant or cold to her husband-to-be. No, everything was to be ok now. She could let go of the past and start a new future from its shambles.

Her phantom was now really a phantom, as well as an angel.

She got up and walked over to her desk where the letter from the previous few days had been sitting at a stalemate,

_Dear monsieur's. _

_I would like to inform you I would be honored as well as delighted to be rejoining the Opera Populaire as the new Prima Donna in Hannibal, it is unfortunate of Mlle. Carlotta leaving, however, if she is not to return maybe you will think of further employment? We shall discuss my contract hopefully soon._

_Also, I would be honored if you were guests at my wedding to Raoul de Chagny. Please do attend, for I think of most of the Opera Populaire as my family._

_Sincerely Christine Daaé._

With that out of the way, she began to prepare for Raoul's arrival, they would have a lot to discuss on his return. Especially plans for their wedding.

If Christine had made her bed that day, like she normally did, instead of had a maid do it, she would of noticed the small simple gold band Erik had laid on her pillow before it fell down the side of her bed.


	5. You Do What You Have To Do

**A/N -** ah... sweet bliss. This chapter is named after a Sarah Mclachlan song. I might name some others after her songs. Also, I need to let you know that I've gone over this and over this piece, for some reason when I use the Quick Edit on the site, it randomly removes spaces from the story, I did indeed go back and check my chapters on my computer and they did not have that problem. Therefore, if there isn't a space between to words know it's not me but a glitch with the program.

**Chapter Five: You Do What You Have To Do. **

**_I must say, all the same,  
that it's a shame  
that 'Phantom' fellow isn't here!_ **

After three whole months, he was finally back. Three months of not constantly being beside her at ever corner from a distance, three months of worrying if she was all right, three months of barely any sleep. He concluded that he would never be able to leave again, for although he was gone for three months, he was never far from her in mind and spirit. Going away to sort his feelings had been a reasonably logical idea at the time, but every fiber of his soul had yearned to be near her in his absence. It was one of the most trying tests of will he had ever been put too. And though he missed her and never relaxed once in his travels, he was proud he had accomplished it.

He looked around the small cabin that had been neglected for the last fifteen weeks. Spider webs hung at ever corner and it smelt of old musky mould.

_Yes_, he told himself, _it's just the way I left it._

Slowly he lowered the satchel he was carrying to the ground, groaning at the trying exertion. He mused if she was awake yet, since it was eight o'clock in the morning. If she were up, then he couldn't get as close as he wanted too, but if she were asleep then, he could go visit her as an apparition in her sleep.

Slowly he took off his cloak and hung it up to the side. If he were to go see her, he might as well change into something a little easier to climb around the forest in.

_Oh Christine, I have come home to you._

-  
(' ) '  
-

**_Your hands are cold . . .  
Your face, Christine, it's white . . ._ **

"Mme de Chagny! Vicomtess, Are you alright?" The maid cried, knocking on the door.

"I will be fine in a moment Michelle. Give me that one moment please." Christine said as sweat hung on her brow. Her body retched one last final time into the small basin. Slowly, and somewhat unlady-like she wiped her mouth with her hand. Her breath was ragged and her head ached with a fierce pain. Stumbling, she got up from the floor and walked to the door.

"Will you please send for Dr. Leblanc, Michelle?" she asked from behind the locked door of her powder room. This intense vomiting had been happening for over a week now. At first, she had just taken it as nerves. She had been to many parties in the last few weeks. All parties where Raoul paraded her around to many other couples and while the men chatted away, she tried to make polite conversation with the other woman, only to be shunned and looked at with disgust. _I wonder if this was how Erik felt his whole life,_ she thought sadly.

Yes, it had been happening for quite some time now, and although she had told Raoul many times she was fine, she began to worry that she might be ill. Well enough was enough, she decided. It was time that she had Dr Leblanc examine her so she may find out for sure.

"Of course Madame, anything else I can be of service to you for?" The little maid asked.

"Yes, do we have any peaches? I have an undeniable craving for peaches." Christine mumbled, holding herself protectively. One minute I'm retching into a basin, the next I want something sweet.

"But Madame, it is out of season for the peach." The woman said curiously still behind the door. Christine wiped her face once more, this time with a soft towel before going over to the door and opening it a crack.Charlotte was simply standing there with curious eyes directed at her mistress in awe and concern.

Christine smiled at the thought of this, "Oh dear, then I would love any fruit you can offer."

"Yes, Madame." The young maid said and curtsied. Christine thought of anything else Charlotte could do for her, until she smelt the sour stench emanating from her powder room.

"Oh and Charlotte?" Christine called as she began to walk away from the other side of the door.

"Yes, Madame?"Charlotte asked, and turned around to look at her.

"Can you haveMichelle come and take my basin for cleaning?" Christine asked, "And, Call me Christine."

"Yes Mad... Christine..."

(' ) '  
-

_**May I see her? **_

_**No, monsieur,  
she will see no one.**_

Raoul waited down in his study, for Christine had asked to not be disturbed. Something was wrong; Christine had never been one to be ill, even when they were children. He looked at the clock hanging on the mantelpiece; it read three o'clock. He should be here soon, yes soon, soon, soon. Raoul couldn't take it anymore; he didn't fight his whole life for her, only to have her... No, that wouldn't happen.

Oh, how he loved her so much, tears began to well in his eyes.

"Please God, don't let it be, what EVER it may be, life threatening."

(' ) '  
-

_**Too long you've wandered  
in winter . . .  
Far from my  
far-reaching gaze . . .** _

_Why is she lying down, is she ill?_ Erik thought. _How long had she been like this? Did it start when I was away? Could I have protected her against this pain_?

He was watching on a perch he called _Angel's cove_. It was the best way to see into Christine's room. He thought she would no longer be occupying the room once she became the Vicomtess, and maybe she didn't, maybe she was just in need of privacy.

He sat there watching intently as she tossed around lying in the bed.

Then suddenly, without warning she stopped; she perked up and went over to the door to lead a short, stocky, man and the Vicomte into her haven.

(' ) '  
-

_**Angel . . . oh, speak . . .  
What endless longings  
echo in this whisper . . .** _

"Uh huh... uh huh." Dr Leblanc said as he felt behind Christine's head, near her neck.

"Breathe in... And now out m'dear..." Dr Leblanc told her, and she did so deeply, trying to relax. He then took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. She did so again, her breath less shaky this time.

"Again..." he said quite in deep thought. Biting her lip, she released her breath. _What is he doing?_ She wondered curiously. _Out with it doctor! Tell me what is wrong!_

"Good girl, Christine. You said this only happens in the mornings?"

"I only get ill in the mornings, and then I become quite perplexed and uncomfortable for the rest of the day. I haven't been sleeping well and have had cravings." She said, stifling a yawn.

"Uh huh..." The doctor said smiling wryly.

"Christine, I want you to get some sleep, alright? It is imperative you do so. Vicomte de Chagny? I would like to speak with you." Dr. Leblanc said motioning towards the door out of her room.

Of course, Christine was puzzled, and actually a bit bereft that the good doctor would not tell her himself what is going on. Everyone always treated her as a child, except for one person.

Erik.

Erik had always called her child, but in the latter part of their relationship had not treated her as so. To him, she was a woman, a woman worth loving as a wife a mother and for herself, to everyone else she was just a child to be coddled and pampered. She felt suddenly disgusted with herself that she had acted like one as she ran from him and his love.

"Damn them!" she fumed.

_Wait_, she said stopping herself. _Where is this anger coming from? You have never thought this before, why are you being so upset now? Raoul loves you, and you him. He's just so used to taking care of people, he doesn't understand that you don't need to be taken care of like that anymore._

_Maybe I should get some sleep like the Doctor said,_ she thought.

(' ) '  
-

_**I love her!  
Does that mean nothing?  
I love her!  
Show some compassion . . .** _

Raoul poured himself a glass of brandy he kept on the mantelpiece of the study. He looked at the clock it read three forty-five.

"Doctor, please tell me what has been plaguing my wife." Raoul said, taking a brave step by turning around and looking in the doctor's eyes. He was preparing himself to hear she had consumption, or something life threatening illness of the sort. He even had come to terms with the fact that perhaps Christine was regretting her decisions; perhaps she was really wishing she had stayed with her dark angel underneath the opera house.

"Well I'm not quite sure, but indeed the sickness in the morning is being induced by a physical ailment, if you want to consider it that."

"So, this is not emotionally caused?" Raoul asked finally, having the doctor confirm that his suspicions of Christine's affections wavering to be false.

"No, no, it is definitely physical, I could tell by the swelling in her feet." The doctor commented still smiling politely. Raoul felt anger at the man before him; he wanted to wipe the smile off his face. _My wife may be dying and here you are smiling at me!_ The mentioning of her swollen feet left Raoul more panicked then before. Cautiously, he knew he had to ask what was eating at his mind.

"She's not going to... die... is she?" He asked, his voice cracking.

"No my dear boy! Far from it, she is going to bring a life into this world. At least I believe she will."

Raoul took a second to let this process_. Life? As in, a child?_

"Christine is with CHILD!" Raoul exclaimed happily.

"Hush, maybe, like I said, I am not sure, until she herself notices that she has missed… her cycle. However from previous cases I have dealt with, Christine is suffering from something dubbed, 'Morning sickness.' it is common with women expecting," The older man said still smiling.

"Oh, dear lord that is WONDERFUL NEWS!" Raoul said with a sigh of relief.

"Why didn't you tell her?" he asked as he fell into his chair that sat across from the doctor.

"Because, She needs rest, and any young woman who thinks they have a child brewing in their womb is going to be excited. Moreover, as I have said many times to deaf ears..." He said looking at Raoul warningly.

"I don't know for sure, it will take a few months. Tell, me do you know anything of Christine's… cycle?" The doctor hesitantly asked Raoul. It wasn't the fact the doctor himself was so embarrassed by the question, but he found it rather amusing to be talking to the Vicomte about womanhood. "OH! Um… Pardon me sir; it is a rather private matter. I do suppose Christine had mentioned to me before that hers were… rather… irregular." Raoul said pensively.

"Indeed, so we may not know for sure until her belly begins to show signs of protrusion. Well, that means I will return in two months to see how far along she is. You will not mention this to her, understood? I am concerned. Yes, most get morning sickness, but it isn't healthy for her sleep to be taken from her. If she is uncomfortable for most of the pregnancy, she will have problems during birth which will lead too..."

"I understand ENTIRELY monsieur." Raoul said quietly. For the last week he had been going through many scenarios where he may loose Christine, this had not been one of them. All of them had shocked him into realizing he wouldn't know what to do without her, and that he could not loose her, if he could help it. So, if lying to her would help her pain to be eased, then so be it.

"Alright... then all is well, but a few words from man to man my dear boy, since this is your first time through this?" The doctor said rising.

"Yes, of course, Doctor."

"She might have a wide variations in emotions. One minute she will be laughing heartily, and the next she will be throwing your most expensive porcelain at your head. Every woman is different. So when she does have these 'changes', understand it is not her, it is these hormones educed by the pregnancy controlling her."

"Yes Monsieur..." Raoul said meekly with a happy smile. He could picture Christine now, throwing something at him for some insignificant reason. If he could handle the Phantom of the opera, he could handle Christine's wrath.

"And one last thing."

"Yes?" Raoul said escorting the man to the door. Once Doctor Leblanc got to it and out, he turned around and looked Raoul straight in the eyes.

"If she wants strawberries with toffee, in the middle of winter, at four in the morning, then you should make sure she receives that those strawberries and toffee. Learn to never underestimate a woman's wrath when she is having cravings." he said with a glint of laughter in his eyes.

Raoul laughed. "Of course, monsieur of course..."

"Goodbye Vicomte de Chagny..." Leblanc said placing his hat on his head, and walking to his carriage.

"Goodbye." Raoul said closing the door.

Christine with child! Oh, what news to send his heart a-soar!

(' ) '  
-

_**Ignorant fool!  
This brave  
young suitor,  
sharing in my  
triumph!** _

Erik watched as the doctor left the house and entered a carriage waiting for him. What was to become of his beloved Christine? Was she ill or not? He had to know!

Slowly he walked down to a spot where he could peer into the Vicomte's study.  
He had expected to see the young main as distraught as he was, but was surprised to see him laughing and dancing around the room like a mad man.  
Was he happy to be rid of her? No, that couldn't be it. Raoul loved her. Then what could it be?

Then it hit him, like a carriage that hit him at full speed, knocking him into the soft undergrowth of the forest.

Christine was with child.

And it was not his.


	6. Outbursts

Okay, if anyone is reading this who was reading POTO: A series of Outtakes and Plot holes... what can I say, it was removed and I was banned from the site for a few days.

**Chapter Six: Three words **

_**Your part is SILENT!  
Little Toad... **_

"Raoul..." Christine asked. "Am I gaining weight?" she asked with a hint of concern as she looked into her vanity mirror.

It had been two months since the visit from Dr. Leblanc, and though Raoul assured her that she was in perfect health, the sickness had not gone away. This was not the only problem that had been occurring, for her restlessness increased, and she started to become rather moody sometimes.

When she did sleep, her dreams were vivid memories, and fantasies she could not reveal to Raoul even on her deathbed. She stood there, looking at the flush in her cheeks and the swell of her breast remembering her most current nightmare.

_She had just broken a trinket that was sitting on the desk in Erik's home. She had gotten used to his sudden rages, but it had been quite some time since she had seen him this bad. _

"_Erik please! For heaven's sake it was a mistake!" She cried, terror in her eyes. He had thrown her against the wall and pinned her there with his strong arms. _

"_A mistake? Mistake Christine? Why must it always be a mistake with you, my mask, my private things, your promises, and even my heart? You never MEAN to break them!" He snarled and held her shoulders against the wall. _

_There was no pain, standing there with his hateful, gleaming eyes boring deep into her. She stood there, staring deeply into them, wondering if the heat in her face would ever leave, or if she would just die of embarrassment. Her heart was pounding furiously, and her breath coming in short ragged gasps. She vaguely noticed his was doing the same. Instead of cooling down, she felt the heat slowly burn a path down her body, leaving her breasts and lower stomach tingling. Her skin ached with a longing she knew all to well as a fever of wanton desire. Hopelessly, she looked up into his eyes trying to convey how much she needed him to just crush his body to hers and press his lush mouth to her in a demanding kiss. _

_Her knees went weak when she knew he had seen her desire, and his own eyes began to cloud in the familiar look of need and he did just as she craved, he crushed her between the wall and himself. She allowed him to pry open her mouth with his, his tongue discovering her. When they pulled apart, she could not tell if she was dizzy from the heat she was emanating, or if it were because she was in dire need of air. Either way, she did not care as his mouth began to trail her jaw line and nip her pulse. She gasped in delight and closed her eyes as he trailed his kisses down her breast…_

Christine's eyes watered with the thought of the memory. Oh how cruel her dreams were! How disgusted she was to wake up longing for the caress of another man other than her Raoul. Her guilt ate at her until she could no longer allow his intimate caresses. Which in turn, weren't that much, ever since the Doctor's visit. Yes, ever since the doctor promised her that nothing was wrong, Raoul had just been coddling her, but in no way touching her in anyway intimately. Now she was gaining weight and she was sure that Raoul was loosing interest in her now that she was his. He had even suggested she return to her room that was hers before their marriage so she may sleep with more ease.

This left her bitter, and over time, a temper no one had ever seen emanated from her. Though Christine was appalled by her actions, Raoul seemed quite all right with them.

She remembered a fortnight ago when she was working on her needlepoint. Raoul had been in his chair by the fire while she sat beside him in hers. He had been reading while she had been staring numbly into the fire.

"OUW!" She yipped when she stabbed herself for the second time with the sharp needle. A drop of blood fell onto her white dress, and she lost all control.

"Damn you!" She yelled at the embroidery, and before she new what she was doing; she threw it into the fire.

"What a pathetic attempt at nothing!" She snarled and got up to storm off.

"Christine!" Raoul said rather taken back, as she had been about to walk away. All of a sudden, she felt embarrassment and guilt seep into her and knew she had lost the color in her face. Quickly she dropped to her knees and laid her head in Raoul's lap.

"Oh dearest, please forgive, me, I don't know what has come over me!" She said in between sobs.

Raoul had simply stroked her hair and hushed her cries. It surprised her he understood her outbursts, when in fact, she had no clue as to why she couldn't control herself. She had expected him to be disgusted with her. Her temper was becoming as fierce as Erik's had been.

That had been the only a fortnight ago, and now they were getting ready to go to Faust at the Opera Garnier.

"Well?" She asked rather annoyed by his silence. She turned to look and see what was taking him so long. When she saw he was simply smiling at her, she was even more upset.

"Well are you going to stand there all night with that rather silly grin or are you going to tell me if I have turned into a fat toad like Carlotta or not!" She fumed.

Once the words were out her mouth she clasped her hand to it.

_"Where in heaven's name is this hostility coming from!"_ She cried inside her head. _"Never in my life have I ever talked so rudely, and now I find it comes rather easily!"_

Raoul laughed and approached his wife who was dressed in the finest silks of Paris. She had put the majority of her long, curly hair up with beautiful sterling silver combs.

"You look more radiant than ever, my dear. Do not worry about your little outbursts, all will be explained tomorrow on the arrival of Dr. Leblanc." he said touching her cheek, making her smile.

_My Raoul,_ she thought, _my dearest, loving husband._ What was the surprise he was keeping from her? She didn't like surprises or secrets. They had been spoiled. Too many men kept secrets from her then blamed her when she didn't know what they were talking about.

"Come dear, we should be off! The opera awaits!"

(' ) '  
-

_**Down once more  
to the dungeon  
of my black despair! **_

Erik stood by the entrance to his palace of sins in Rue Scribe. The sand bags had been taken away, and now he was free to enter back into the dismal world he had left behind.

Why did he come back here? The music. He needed to make peace with the only thing in his life that had never betrayed him. Music had been there with him through it all, and when Christine had left, he had given up on it.

He betrayed music, he realized as guilt seeped into his heart. He had traded sound for flesh, and even though his deepest, and newest love did not return it, he could not return to his first.

_But she COULD!_ His heart screamed.

"_I never explained myself… I loved you and now you are dead." _

His chest constricted in pain as he clenched and unclenched his fists. If she had really loved him, she would have never left him as she had. She wouldn't have ran away with that fool of a husband and allowed herself to be tamed. Now look at her, she was attending opera's more these days than performing in them. She had not only betrayed him, but herself.

Suddenly a wave of calmness swept over him, just as sudden as the wave of hate and anger. He knew Christine had only fled from the mob, not himself. He had seen what mobs could do in his time, and they usually had trouble stopping for innocent bystanders. She would have been killed just as he had if they had stumbled upon the scene, whether they meant to or not. Rage does that to men, and when several are enraged, there's no telling what a good man might do.

It had been him to practically throw her into the arms of her other lover, Raoul. He had been the one who had let go, and now he was left with nothing. His life was void of music.

It would be near impossible bringing the large organ up to his cabin, and even if he did, she would undoubtedly hear its dark chords, revealing his secret. No, all he had now was the untouched violin that sat in the corner of his home. He felt no inspiration to play; no muse came to him since he found Christine was with child.

It was as if at that very moment, he knew she would never return to him, reality had set in and sent him into the world of day. Night was a world long forgotten, and how could he return to the passion of pain when he had felt the passions of love?

_No, _he thought, as he walked through the catacombs underneath the Paris opera house. _I have to make peace with my daemons; I have to watch another opera, just for the sake of music._

(' ) '  
-

_**No more memories,  
no more silent tears . . .  
No more gazing across  
the wasted years . . .  
Help me say goodbye. **_

Christine looked out the carriage window terrified of returning to what felt like home. The chateau she lived in with her husband did not feel like it belonged to her as well, and she realized that she would never feel that way. She would forever be a guest who was treated with every privilege, including everything served to her on a silver platter.

No matter how much she tried to touch it up so that the house was more of a home, it was cold, sterile, and too bright. She had come to terms that it would never feel like home the way Erik's did. She was use to the darkness of the opera house. The house she had began to live in more than her own small room inside the opera house.

_Why do I have to be sick? _She thought sadly. It had been three months since she had sung for the Opera Populaire, but when she had stopped sleeping properly, she noticed she could no longer sing the aria's that were required.

She told no one, and loathed the fact her teacher was not there to instruct her on how to keep her instrument in tune. One day, during rehearsal, she had felt a pain in her abdomen. Later that night she risked confiding in her husband, and when she had told Raoul, he begged her to take leave of absence for a year. She was astonished he would ask of such a thing! Her singing would be even more poorly out of tune by then at the rate she was going. Therefore, when she refused him, requesting that he do not concern himself, he went above her head to the managers.

She, to that day, never found out what he said to them, but when both Firmin and Andre approached her, they were not unhappy or angry with her, why they were beaming.

"Vicomtess de Chagny, please understand that this isn't a decision we want to make, but you must take a leave of absence until, you are better." Andre said in a smooth voice.

Christine felt tears well in her eyes and looked around at all the people around her on the stage. She felt small, and that those eyes of her friends and family were mocking her. Andre and Firmin were laughing, laughing at her as though they had planned for her to come back only to tell her to leave. She remembered thinking with a hate so pure it frightened her, how much Raoul had paid them to let her go.

_This is a sick game, she thought bitterly,_ running out of the rehearsal to her old dressing room.

"Christine!" Raoul had called out to her behind the locked door as she had fallen down on her divan.

"Go away Raoul! You just don't want me to sing anymore! You don't want you wife to be an opera rat! You want me to change who I am!" She said angrily through her tears.

"No Christine, that is not at all, I would have never told you to come back if I really felt that way… Please forgive me darling, please forgive me, it is all for the best..."

Christine remembered that night as though it were only last. It was the first time she had ever been upset with Raoul. Enough to silently whisper "I wish Erik were here."

Erik was not there however; a paper had declared him dead. She had been secretly having Michelle go out and buy the newspaper for her. Michelle was then to remove only the obituaries and bring them directly to Christine without the Vicomte's knowledge. Of course, the dear maid found this a little strange, but never asked the Vicomtess any questions. Christine had given up all hope of seeing Erik's message, three simple words he promised her when it was time for his death. Therefore, when it happened, she clearly didn't believe it right away. "Erik is dead." Had been printed neatly in the bottom left hand corner of the page about a week before the incident.

"_Erik!" she cried, whilst waking from a terrible dream. She was in the underground home, and they had practice her lessons late into the night. It usually was about a half an hour venture up to her dressing room, and usually when it was this late she preferred to just stay in the room that he had made just for her. Getting out of the bed, she hurried out the door of her room to find him._

_There he was, sitting at the chess table, along with the Persian man she only knew as Nadir._

"_Oh… I apologize for interrupting…" Christine mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. Nadir always made her remember that the situation that she and Erik were in was not proper. His presence always had her feeling as though she did not belong down here, a Persephone to her Hades._

"_While hello Mademoiselle Daaé." Nadir said quietly and looked at Erik sternly. She watched as Erik smiled crookedly at his friend, as if to say 'it could not be helped!' he then turned to Christine and rose to meet her half way._

"_What is wrong my dear?" he asked her pushing curls that had fallen into her eyes back from her face._

"_I had the most horrible dream… we were out… out in a park, merely picnicking and men were staring hatefully. Suddenly, before I knew it, I was behind a wall that I could see through, they beat you down in front of me… When I finally figured out that I had to imagine the wall away, they were gone and your blood formed a river I was swept away in!"_

_Erik chuckled. "My, you **are** quite imaginative, aren't you Christine?" _

"_Erik! It is not funny! You were killed because men did not understand you!" she cried, allowing tears to fall from her eyes._

"_Trust me, angel… I know how to defend myself against the evils of mankind." Erik throatily replied._

_Christine furrowed her brow, confused by his cryptic words. She worried so much about him these days. Wondered what he really planned for Il Muto, which would be preformed soon. Although the managers had cast her as the pageboy, Erik was hell bent on her learning the words and song of the Comtess._

_She heard Nadir clear his throat, waking them from their moment._

"_I think… that Mlle. Daaé is right to fear for you Erik, I have seen what some men have done to survivors of the Franco Prussian war… They are scarred as well and men treat them…"_

"_Nadir!" Erik interrupted; Christine and he had not stopped gazing into each other's eyes yet. She felt herself wanting to wrap her arms around him and hold his head to her chest. Why must men be so cruel? She wondered. Why would they want to hurt her dear friend, her teacher?_

_If Erik hadn't had his arms on her arms, she would of done just that._

"_Christine… what can I do to rest your mind?" he asked her._

"_I just… what if I'm not here? What if I may be away, for whatever reason… and you were to die? I couldn't bare not knowing." She wept, finally breaking from his grasp, and placing a hand on his chest, over his heart._

Such a dear man, _Christine thought, _who would ever hate him so much as to hurt him?

"_I'll make you a promise Christine… if, you are gone, for whatever reason… and I were to, die… for whatever reason. Nadir would know… I would either call on him before my death, or he would find me. Then, he will write to paper, and ask that a simple obituary be placed in it, something only you and I will recognize."_

"_What, though Erik? What would be simple but only we would understand?" She asked confused, she did not like this plan, for whatever reason, but it was all that was being offered to her._

"_Something simple… How about 'Erik is dead'? I find that many things can be summed up in a few words, some of the most important things, in three."_

"_Erik…" Nadir said with warning in his voice, which Christine could not imagine._

_They both were so confusing, her Erik and his Nadir. Why was everything so hidden?_

"_Go back to bed Christine." I shall come to you in a few moments, to say goodnight._

_She returned to her room, only to lie back in the bed and close her eyes… sometime later, when she was half asleep, she heard her door open and Erik enter the room. She did not know the reason why that she did it at the time, but she pretended to be asleep when he came into the room._

_She couldn't hear his footsteps, as she strained to hear him._

_Suddenly, she felt his breath on her face, warm and touched with a hint of brandy. _

"_Oh Christine, why must you always mock me?" he asked her sleeping form. She felt him stroke her face with his hand, and tuck her curls behind her ear._

_Then his hand was gone and his lips were on her temple, tracing chastely to her ear._

"_You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead… NEVER" he whispered in her ear._

_Before she could respond to his threat, he was out of the room, never knowing she had been awake to hear his eerie words._

_Slowly she began to weep, not because she was scared for Erik, but because she was, for the first time, afraid for herself._

That had been the first time Christine had realized, there was more to her angel of music than just the sweet and charming side he had been showing her. When he had killed Bouquet the night of Il Muto, those words kept repeating themselves in her head. _"You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead…. NEVER." _She realized in those few moments, as she watched the body hanging from the stage… all those moments under the opera house, all those mysterious words were really about his love for her. Her teacher was _in love _with her, though he had never told her directly. He was in love, and he would do anything for her to be happy and return his feelings. Suddenly she had felt sick to her stomach, and saw Raoul dashing towards her wondering if she was all right.

_Oh Erik, why did you have to kill Bouquet? _Christine thought, as the cab continue to move closer to her old home.

_Would I have stayed for you, learnt to love you, if you hadn't been a cruel murderer? Would you still have been alive? Why must I still love you when I knew you to be wretched?_

She remembered how she had carefully ripped out the tiny article and hid it in her corset until later that night. That night, she placed it in a drawer of her vanity. It was all she had left of him. She had no petals from his first rose, no sheets from the score of Don Juan, not even his simple ring, this small parchment that would fade and eventually be to old to read was all she had left of her beautiful Angel. _You were the real beauty, and I the beast. _At that realization, she began to weep, and did not stop until she fell into blissful oblivion.

She was afraid of the things that the large building did to her. It made her wish, made her regret, and most of all, made her bitterly angry at Raoul and the world.

As though, he were on cue, Raoul spoke. "I'm sorry I made you quit, Christine, but all will be explained tomorrow when Dr. Leblanc arrives."

"Tomorrow this, tomorrow that Raoul! Why leave the mess to the good Doctor, Why not tell me yourself what is so terribly wrong with me that I had to quit my passion!" She said fiercely.

Raoul did not say anything or look at her, after she finished and Christine didn't apologize this time for her outburst. This time she meant it.


	7. Barer of Good News?

Disclaimer – the phans own Erik, for it is us who made him famous with our desperate phan-girl love! This is a strange version based on no ones Phantom, I created an Erik! I wrote of a Christine with troubled real emotions! I made Raoul not such a egomonger! SO HA! I OWN PHANTOM! (except that Gaston Leroux made them famous through literature… um… right… okay, so it's really all Gaston's. I still think you can't own someone who really existed.)

An – I renamed this chapter because I stole a line from the song, and it made me feel I had to give it credit.

**Chapter Seven: My Immortal **

_**Signora!  
You are our star!  
And always will be!**_

"Christine..." Dr Leblanc said holding her hands in-between his. His gaze pieced down on her, and she couldn't find the strength to look back into his eyes, to see whatever they held.

Christine was expecting the worst. _Oh dear here it comes,_ she thought. _He will tell me I'm dying and that this happiness is to end. _

_Would that be so terrible? _A voice whispered to her. She then began to think, of course she was happy and loved Raoul, but if she were to die, would she spend her eternity in the arms of her father? What would be so horrible about that? Living happily with her love until reaching the ultimate happiness by spending eternity in the arms of a loved one.

Maybe even Erik's?

She was bemused by the fact that still, the one person who instilled the most fear into her being could also bring the most pleasure.

Singing was something Christine had been forbidden to do, because of the pain that came from it. What Raoul had not known that she could no longer sing for her own reasons, not because of the physical pain that it held, but the emotional stress it caused. All she could think of was Erik's voice, his strong velvet voice, which could caress her in ways that her own husband's hands could not. His voiced chased all the sanity away in her, making her forget propriety and who she was. This is why she had not been able to sing for sometime, and slowly she felt as though her soul was dying.

For instance, last night at Faust, oh lord, how painful it was to sit and watch Carlotta sing the Aria's that Erik had taught her to sing perfectly. Carlotta had come back after a much needed vacation due to Piangi's death. The Opera Populaire had found no use of her, until Christine was quietly disposed of, thanks to her darling husband, Raoul.

Raoul didn't notice her silent tears, and if he did, he ignored her sobs that were quietly being choked back.

Christine knew that these was not one of those moments were she was crying over nothing, something that had been happening a lot lately. She began to laugh at her own twisted behavior. _Why must I either laugh or cry? Am I really that different from Erik?_

She realized this was pure regret, despair and bitterness. She felt as though Raoul betrayed her, that he had let her rival win. Of course she was the Vicomtess de Chagny, a title that many young women would do the unthinkable for. Nonetheless, Christine's whole life was centered on music. It sickened her that the only decision she had ever made by herself, which had been choosing Raoul over Erik, had lead to this. Had lead to Raoul taking away her passion, her life.

So the question that lay before her now in the hands of Doctor Leblanc was, am I dying? Will I return to my love of the arts? Could heaven be that dark old Paris opera house, where even last night I felt the presence of the infamous Opera Ghost?

"Christine" Dr. Leblanc said again, "Christine, you are pregnant, five months now to be exact."

Christine felt her heart stop. Slowly her legs and hands began to tingle. She went numb, she was having a baby, and she was to be a mother, and Raoul lied to her, he had hurt her again.

Joy, pain, anger, resentment, love, and fear seeped into her soul, and a feeling she never expected was there, one she was ashamed of.

Disappointment.

She realized she hadn't responded when she looked up into the doctor's eyes and those of her husbands with her own sparkling blue ones. She felt the tears in the corners, threatening to spill like her own sanity onto the floor.

"I um, I don't feel, too well..." Christine said, feeling her head go into a spin, her heart constricted and she felt panicked. Although she was sitting, she felt the room spinning around her.

This was all too much.

"Please, I must, go lay down, or something..." She muttered under her breath, and then rose from the den and left the doctor who had bore her the strange news.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**Little Lotté let her mind wander. .  
Little Lotté thought: Am I fonder of dolls . . .  
or of goblins, of shoes . . .**_

Raoul could not understand. He refused too! How could Christine not feel the tremendous joy he had? Why did his wife just look like they had told her that her father had died?

The Doctor could tell he was confused.

"Every woman reacts different, she is most likely just so please she is in shock." He said reassuring the young man.

"But, the look on her face! Didn't you see! It was if I had killed her," Raoul said sadly.

"Maybe I had steered you in the wrong direction, maybe she is upset that you lied to her for the last two months, If so, I take full responsibility. You can tell her as much. I merely was thinking of her heath, yet you even told me she didn't know of the pregnancy and she still did not sleep well."

"No she didn't. We tried everything! I moved her back to old room, then I slept in the guest bedroom and she tried our room, nothing worked! I woke up one morning and she had baked a cake over night to pass the time... Oh Christine..." He said running his hands through his hair.

What had happened to the happier times? Where was the bright smile of a little Swedish girl they called Lotté?

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**Somehow, I know he's always with me . . .  
he - the unseen genius . . .**_

He had seen her last night, and now he knew that his heart would not give out until he willed it too. She had looked utterly magnificent with her flowing tresses mostly done up with silver combs. He had come to make peace with the music, and found himself betraying it only yet again with impure thoughts of his Angel. To him though impure was just to touch her, to smell the soft ringlets of hair that dropped carelessly down her back. To touch her soft lips with his was the most impure thing he could do, and he had only ever done it once.

It was his savior; his will to live that kept drawing him to her.

Then she cried! Oh, she had cried her soft blue eyes 'til they ran dry. And the Vicomte! He had done nothing! Nothing to soften or hush those tears from spilling! How could he not? How could he pretend that everything was ok in their happy little world where Christine was his and his alone?

Oh, a new rage brewed in his soul, for now Erik did not believe that Raoul could be the second best choice! He had let the most beautiful and majestic angels of all the heavens become a patron of the arts, and not a performer.

_No..._ _You mustn't keep doing this,_ Erik growled in anger. _He obviously had his reasons._

Christine was with child, and she might not be in condition to sing or perform. She was creating a child; a child that was not his, it was another man's. His angel was now an everyday woman, soon to be mother, mother of a child that belonged to Raoul de Chagny.

Erik could no longer watch Faust, or Christine softly cry, so he returned to see if he could still salvage anything from his old home.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_.** . . No thoughts within her head,  
but thoughts of joy!  
No dreams within her heart  
but dreams of love**_

_With child, it means, I'm going to have a baby._

_I will be a mother, a mother of a little boy or girl, and only four more months to go. Is it possible? _She thought to herself as she lay on the bed that felt as if it were spinning.

_Raoul must be in despair over my reaction._

**And why shouldn't he be!** A darker voice entered Christine's mind.

_Because I love him and he will think I do not want to have the baby._ She replied to the voice.

**Oh, let him be! He lied to you... what makes you think he won't again?** It echoed inside her ears.

_Because he loves me, and he obviously had a reason, Raoul would never lie to me unless it was to protect me._

**Protect you from what? Yourself? When will he learn that you don't need to be protected?  
**  
_... I don't know,_ Christine said, letting the darker voice take the lead.

**Did it ever occur to you that it might not be the baby you don't want, but Raoul's baby? **

"NO" She said aloud, not caring that she was taking the insanity of talking to herself to the next level and vocalizing it.

"No, he loves me, and I love him. That is the way it was meant to be and will forever be." She said in an unconvincing tone.

But the dark voice did not reply she was left alone to think again. One thing she did not want to think about is how eerie it was that the Dark voice had sounded like Erik's.


	8. Cruelty in Love

**AN - **It doesn't seem anyone is reading this, hence the lack of updates. I know these are old chapters but I've really been bulking them up, theirs much more too them then their used to be... I only wish that people enjoyed them. Again if you were reading "Outtakes and Plot holes" it was taken down, but I never got up as much as I wanted too. Perhaps I can figure out a way so it's not breaking any of rules. Also, I don't like the quick edit thing, has anyone else have been having problems with it? If I fix stuff, sometimes it doesn't show up, sometimes when I load things their are spaces missing... it's odd.

**Chapter Eight: Cruelty in love. **

**_His Lordship sure  
would die of shock!  
His Lordship is  
a laughing-stock!_ **

Bogart watched out of the window of the winery as his children played a game of tag. It had been eight months since the Vicomte, their benefactor, had come to them, with the ultimatum to keep the winery open, and it had been merely hours ago, that he had decided to shut them down.

"What will we do Audric?" The man asked as he continued to watch the children running back and forth in front of the doors of the large winery. Their mother was dead, and everyday before work, he brought them here to play on the vast lawns encircling the building.

"Well, the truth is there is nothing we can do my son. Nothing at all, The Vicomte told us himself he would not support a dying cause, and that is all this winery is... It has not made money ever since it was opened." The older wiser man stated simply.

"I will not live in the slums with my children any longer!" Bogart cried out in rage. He could not bear to see this happen to his family. His own father, once an amazing winemaker had been fired many times over for sampling some of his work at the other factories. It wasn't until he came here that he conquered his addiction to the liquor that had caused him so much turmoil. He himself, felt a strong connection to alcohol, it had eased the death of his true love and the mother of his children.

"I will not have Aimee becoming a whore! Or Damien living the life I have led... If the winery closes we will have nothing, and that will surely happen." He turned back to stare down at his young daughter and her twin brother. Only a minute older, his son always looked out for his angelic little sister. He had not always been there for them emotionally, but he always made sure they were well fed and taken care of.

"Then what do you suggest we do? What can we do? There is nothing left for us Bogart, we are merely the poor and weak, no one will listen to us now." Audric stated, putting a hand over his eyes in a sign of weary resignation. He remembered a time where he had been as fiery as his own son, but now… Now he hadn't the energy to fight. He would go peacefully into that good night if he were given the opportunity.

"We haven't done EVERYTHING..." Bogart said sinisterly, causing Audric to lower his hand.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**Poor young maiden! For the thrill  
on your tongue of stolen sweets  
you will have to pay the bill -  
tangled in the winding sheets!**_

Raoul sat in front of the fire to nervous to move. His hands dug into the arms of the chair and sweat was forming on his upper brow from the heat of the flames. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, as he numbly continued to watch the dancing brightness. The fire took no heed of its audience as it spurted and cackled making brilliant colors in the darkened den.

He heard Michelle's quiet steps down the stairs and he turned to see her.

"Is she? How is she?" Raoul managed to somehow choke out.

"I shall not lie to you Master, she is not well..." She quietly told him before curtsying and returning to her mundane task of fetching towels and a basin.

"Can I… May I see her yet?" Raoul asked.

"I'm sorry Master, but the doctor told me that the less people in the room right now, the better… apparently, Madame is… having hallucinations."

Raoul felt his heart in his throat. The last three months of Christine's pregnancy had left him torn and tired. The once young handsome man was becoming more haggard and stern in his appearance as well as in his demeanor.

As he continued to star into the depths of the fireplace that he was sitting in front of all he could remember was the night Christine had found out about her pregnancy... and how he would never forget her reaction.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**I'm here,  
nothing can harm you -  
my words will  
warm and calm you.**_

**Did it ever occur to you that it might not be the baby you don't want, but Raoul's baby? **

"NO!" She said aloud, not caring that she was taking the insanity of talking to herself to the next level and vocalizing it.

"No, he loves me, and I love him. That is the way it was meant to be and will forever be." She said in an unconvincing tone.

But the dark voice did not reply she was left alone to think again.

One thing she did not want to think about is how eerie it was that the dark voice had sounded like Erik's.

Suddenly there was a fierce knock on her door, one that demanded her attention more than words could state. Carefully she got off her bed and walked over to the door that had been locked shut so that no one could intrude on her thoughts. She unlocked it and opened the door swiftly, knowing that it would be Raoul staring at her from the other side.

"How dare you..." She said with contempt in her voice.

"Dare I what Christine? Protect you and my child?" Raoul said not understanding her anger.

"Protect me? From what, Raoul? Why must you still feel the NEED to protect me?"

"I will always need to protect you..." Raoul said silently.

She knew he was thinking of Erik, and did not like how he was tip toeing by the subject.

"From what?" She repeated, "You know Erik is dead, what do you need to protect me from now!"

"FROM YOURSELF!" Raoul shot back at his wife.

There they stood in silence for a good long moment.

"Well..." Christine said finally knowing how Raoul felt. He believed she would never, and could never be able to take care of herself.

"You let yourself be taken by Erik, Christine. If you had told him no, he would of let you go. You encouraged his delusions and fantasies, and if I did not come along you would of probably still been at it to this very day. " Raoul said finally releasing himself from the chains he had been keeping.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Christine screamed at him. "How dare you take something so personal, so pure, and turn it so ugly. You are the reason why I could not see Erik in his beauty!"

"I am the reason? There WAS no beauty to the monster! Not in his soul Christine, not anywhere… You think I'm so caught up in looks? He MURDERED without a THOUGHT, and yet, if it were him here right now, trying to protect you… would you be so intent on punishing him?" Raoul raged back at her.

"I… he would have never…" she started.

"Oh would he of? You claim that he loved you just as I did… then wouldn't he have done the same that the doctor had claimed to be the best for you? Wouldn't he have done everything in his power to make you happy? I believe so. Just as I believe you still love him. But Christine, oh DEAR Christine, if there is one thing you love more than your two men, it is yourself! You sold your morals under the guise of innocence because you secretly loved him and were afraid of what others would think of you! I sometimes wonder Christine… just what exactly DOES make you happy. NOTHING anymore… No, I bet even your precious 'Phantom' couldn't make you smile now!" He spat.

"Get out... GET OUT NOW!" Christine screamed in rage.

"Christine… I… I'm…" Raoul said, the color draining from his face. How could he have said that to her? Did he really feel those feelings? How could he accuse her of such… horrible events?

"GET OUT NOW RAOUL! AND STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Christine cried and picked up the clock by her nightstand.

Suddenly, she hurled to by Raoul's head and saw him flinch as the gold, and glass, shattered and crunched against the wall.

"As you wish..." Raoul said bitterly.

-  
(' ) '  
-

_**Why did Christine  
fly from my arms . . .?**_

That was the most they had maybe said to each other for the last three months... Christine had moved back into her old room. The servants didn't see this as a huge change; most families with a noble background did not actually sleep in the same room together. However, it had been an easy transition for servants when the Vicomtess had told her maids that she would be needing their services from her husbands room every morning when they had first gotten married. They had been so in love, intent on spending their honeymooning moments together. Nevertheless, after their loud and personal argument, he never knew if the maids had been told to or, they had known… but they never intruded on his rooms since that night. He had asked Christine why she must stay in her rooms all the time and she had replied that once the baby was born she would need to be by it at almost every waking moment.

Raoul explained that was what hiring a nurse was for, to take care of their children.

"Our children Raoul? Don't get ahead of yourself..." Christine had said vindictively.

She remembered her words now as she sat in front of the vanity in her rooms. She wondered if Erik would even notice her now, her ill temper, her baggy eyes, her voice which had lost it's smoothed polished surface, was now only a mere apparition of what it used to be.

As time went on, the little sleep Christine had been getting became even scarcer. She tried to sleep but when she did, she could only see Erik, Erik saying the same vicious words. Erik telling her she was a user, a whore as her husband so eloquently had said to her. She felt anger and resentment towards Raoul, and sadness that he believed in his words. She felt even sadder knowing that they held some truth. Her husband never apologized and she never forgave him, it was one of their many unspoken understandings.

One day, three months after their harsh argument, Christine was sitting in front of her vanity table, brushing her curly locks. At first she just rest her hands on her large belly, staring into the mirror, wondering who the girl was that was staring back. A pinkish haze now clouded her crystal blue eyes, and the fair skin surrounding her eyes had turned to bags.

_Is that really me?_ She asked herself.

_Dear me, I look worse than Erik!_ She thought unhappily, imagining him rejecting her.

_**"I'm sorry my dear… but I do not wish to sleep with… someone looking like death."** _She could hear him say in his silken voice. Giggling she rubbed her hands against the material sitting loosely on her stomach. Sleep with? Where did that come from? When had she begun to view Erik as a sexual being?

She was to have a child, a child that she could love forever and unconditionally...

Something to take care of, and worship and pamper, someone who would not feel the need to 'Protect' her.

_Damn Raoul!_ She thought bitterly. Why did every man in her life protect her?

No wonder she never knew what to do with Erik, He expected her to be able to make decisions for herself, but she had never been taught how. It hadn't been so much the accusations that hurt Christine, as much as Raoul claiming to know the depths of her relationship with her Angel. He knew NOTHING of the passion and relationship they shared. He claimed that Erik would have done what was best for her as well, and she can agree to that. She could even resentfully admit that she perhaps, would not have been as mad at Erik for hiding her pregnancy from her as she had been with Raoul. But she was so sure it was because Erik had always expected her to make her own decisions. He had expected her to have some semblance of will. He wanted her to know herself, to understand what she wanted, and she always acted like she didn't, making him believe he had to make the decision for her. It was because he had no patience she was treated the Raoul treated her. It wasn't because Erik felt he needed to protect her at every waking moment. If she had shown backbone, would she have prevented Erik from believing she was in love with him as well as with Raoul? Would she have prevented the ultimatum that Erik gave her, making Raoul think he was a monster? Or would she have actually figured out to stay with Erik herself? Telling Raoul away. She did not know. This is why Erik himself had wanted to protect her, because she gave no man an option not to. They all wanted to keep 'Poor little Christine' as innocent as possible.

Well she was tired of being on the top of everyone's pedal stool, only to be afraid to fall. Their standards were too high, and if she were to fall from their heights, she would surely break.

As she noticed all these changes, she picked up the brush and ran it through her hair.  
_  
Oh, Raoul_. She thought.

She loved him still, she always would, Where Raoul underestimated her love for Erik, and Erik had always underestimated her love for Raoul. She thought back to one of his outbursts.

"_What do you see in him? He knows nothing of the depth of your love for music. He knows NOTHING of you… He shows up at your door after 12 years of knowing nothing of your existence, and he is magically in love with you? Christine do not be so naïve… he will love you, then leave you like trash… and I will not find treasure in his trash Christine…"_

But what Erik didn't know is that Raoul had loved her since she was five, not since the night, he saw her perform. When they courted in the winter she spent away from the opera house, he showed her the letters he had written for her eyes only while growing up. He showed her all of the memento's he kept of her and her father. Old newspaper clippings, thread from her scarf, pedals from a rose she gave him when they were young, and her fathers obituary.

"_When he died,"_ she could still remember him saying to her. "_When your father passed on… I grieved for you. I grieved for him as I would grieve for my own father, as I would grieve for you. I couldn't help but think of you all alone, my little Lotté left for the wolves. I remember, pleading with Philippe to hunt you down, find out what had happened to you, even perhaps… to try and find you and bring you home with me, but he would have none of it. He told me to let go of the past, that you surely had." _She remembered looking up into his eyes and seeing the pain their, the grief in knowing that he had been helpless to save her that time.

Even now, after remembering those pure and true feelings in his eyes, she still felt betrayed. She believed if he truly loved her, then he would trust her. For love involves trust, and if there is no trust, how can there be love?

_This has gone on long enough!_ She said to herself, _I shall go speak to him about this at once, even if we are both to stubborn to settle our differences, I can be the bigger person here and solve this issue between us, after all we are married, and if we are to bring this child into this world, we should be happy as well...  
_  
As she began to walk hastily out of the room, she tripped on a corner of the throw rug underneath her. Christine fell to the floor with a loud crash, only to have Charlotte rush to the side of her Madame.

"Charlotte..." Christine said weakly, "Send for my husband... please..." Christine said as she felt the water from her womb seep out onto the floor.

The last thing she remembered before she fell into blackness was that it was too soon... It was a month too soon.


	9. Father Figure

**AN - **Just a little author's note. Not that ANYONE has ever given me this impression... but I wanna clear up that I'm canadian and I spell things alot 're' instead of 'er' and 'ou' instead of just 'o'. Sometimes I do it right! Somtimes, I'm just a poor speller period and through extra vowels in! I'm a blot on Canadian spelling! I'm a blot on spelling period! the grammar police are after me! OMG!

Anyways, if you see me spelling with the 'er' and the 'o' 's that probably because I was too tired to argue with spell check.

**Chapter Nine: Father Figure **

**_Think of their cry  
of undying  
support!_ **

Raoul thought about how he had found out about Christine and the baby as he sat there too terrified to move, to terrified to cry. He had been with the managers of his winery, and about to tell them that they were no longer needed, and that the winery, was to be closed down. He was to relieve them of their services immediately, which he knew he should have done at least 8 months prior. His reasoning had been that he wanted to protect his workers, but his brother informed him that his allowance was beginning to dwindle.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry, I just cannot have myself throwing good money after bad now... I have a wife and child to think about now..."

As the word now came out, he heard rampant footsteps behind him and a soft voice curse violently. He grew curious and turned to see Charlotte run through the management door.  
How had she gotten here? It was more than 50 miles from the house! A trip that certainly took him three hours, and kept him for an over night stay.

"Monsieur! It is your wife! She has had an accident!" Charlotte said looking at him with her terrified green eyes. Raoul did not have enough time to let this information process. An accident? What about the child? Why now, what had they done to deserve this?

He was out the door without saying goodbye to either of the men, and running towards the carriage that he had arrived in.

"Charlotte, come with me in my carriage so you can tell me what happened!" He called to her, as she was trying to enter the one she took.

"It was three hours ago monsieur! We heard a crash! Michelle and I went to go inspect what had happened, and when we found her she was on the floor..." Charlotte said and finally, on completing her task, let go to her brave exterior and broke into sobbing.

"There was blood and water everywhere, Michelle said she was going to fetched the doctor and I did not stay to see what was going to happen, I came as soon as I could..." She said looking up at her master. Normally this was a bold move, but at times like these those two riding in that carriage were equal, for both were fearful and were thinking the same thing, and that was to let nothing happen to Christine...

Raoul looked over to the woman beside him who was quietly sobbing.

"Poor small child, little child..." She whispered under her breath, and Raoul pulled her into a strong embrace. It was against his nature, and his status to even allow this servant in his carriage, but she was showing the utmost love and respect for his wife and unborn babe. Therefore, he felt the need to quell her fears.

( ' ) '  
-

**_But every hope  
and every prayer  
rests on you now..._ **

Erik heard screams.

He had been reading lazily on his sofa Wuthering Heights, empathizing with Heathcliffe over Cathy's betrayal, when the faint high-pitched feminine screams echoed through his little cabin. There were two, he realized in sheer panic. One was from Charlotte, and one from Michelle. Both were Christine's favorite servants, as he had grown to realize over the year. Panic seared through him. If both servants were screaming, that meant something was wrong with Christine, something devastatingly wrong, by the sound of their blind fear.

Running over to where he had laid his opera glasses, he quickly picked them up and ran out his door without remembering to close it. As fast as he could, he ran down the hill, trying his best not to trip over the fallen leaves and twigs.

It was now fall, and his hiding places were becoming scarcer in the rapid decline of life in his only confidants, the trees.

As he approached _Angel's Cove,_ he saw the young Michelle hovering around the ground, but no Christine.

_Where the HELL is CHRISTINE? _Erik thought panicking. He felt his heart race and he knew he would surely have a heart attack.

He could not find his angel; he could not see where she was in the room. Before he realized what he was doing, he was on the Vicomte and Vicomtess property, before he could stop himself; he was climbing up that drainpipe to the balcony to see what Michelle was hovering over so cautiously.

The sight he saw, made him give away his presence, when he cried out in horror.

There was his angel, lying there in a heap on the floor, her dress tangled about her body and her large stomach. Blood and other fluids stained the carpet and dress leaving a large mess indeed.

Michelle looked up at him standing on the balcony. Even in her terror, it was when she let his name slip, he knew that Christine had told her maid about her past. "Erik!" she squealed and ran to him. "Erik, I thought you were…. We heard her shriek and a loud thud. I found her here like this, Charlotte has gone to get the Vicomte!" She explained.  
There was no need for them to make formalities, or for him to explain to her that he would not hurt her, it was obvious she already knew this when she ran to him.

"Quickly, I will need a basin of water, some rags and towels, and then you must fetch the midwife and doctor." He said shrugging off the large black cloak he was wearing and wrapping it around the small woman at his feet. He had rushed out the door of his cabin only in his shirtsleeves and trousers. As he had left the cabin, he had quickly grabbed the cloak beside the door, out of habit, he was glad he had now.

He felt the bitter rage he had kept down for a whole year, come sweeping back. A rage that normally brought out the side of him he was most ashamed of, his urge to kill. This was the strongest he had ever felt it, for he was terrified, something he hadn't felt since he was a small child traveling with the Gypsies.

Yes, he was terrified because for the first time since he was younger, he was not in control.  
When he murdered he had always been in control, had always tried to keep himself emotionally unattached to his victims. For a whole year now, he had had his emotions in utter control; he had kept his distance from her, his true love. Now, he was so use to being in it, control that is, that now there was nothing he could do, and he was terrified. She was still, even now, the only one who could make him loose it.

Make him loose his inhibitions.

And mind.

If he could kill right now to keep her from dying, he would of killed thousands, and paid for it dearly in the afterlife. Not that he wasn't already going to pay...

As he picked her up, he saw Michelle depart without a question and return with towels, and water basin.

"You will stay with her until I return with them?" Michelle asked, knowing it was not a question but more a statement.

Erik had placed Christine on the bed and stroked a curl out from her head. She was to be in labor soon, he just prayed that she would be able to keep the baby.

"I wont tell anyone what has taken place." Michelle said to the masked man who was rolling up his sleeves and preparing himself for the aid of the woman on the bed.

Surprised, Erik looked up at Michelle with a small, smile of gratitude.

"Hurry child, we need them soon." he said to her, having her depart right away.

(' ) '  
-

**_Say you love me  
every  
waking moment,  
turn my head  
with talk of summertime_ **

_"Do you love me?" Erik asked her as they walked through the park._

_The question took her by surprise. She looked up at his form, his dark form that she had never seen out of the shadows was now being bathed in sunlight as children play around them and young lovers walked by hand in hand. She remembered her terrified dreams of doing this, and how Erik would always be killed in the process._

_Oh, how naïve she had been… _

_"Why what a silly question! I will not even dignify it with an answer." She said slyly and started to walk away. _

_"Oh really Mlle. Daaé, it was that silly?" he said to her, playing along with her game. She looked over to him again, taking in him dressed in his best black attire, she wondered if he would ever find something other than black to suit him. He looked so out of place in this park of light and love, and yet, it felt so right for him to be there. _

_"Yes, It was THAT silly, incredibly silly. I would think that any other woman with lower patience then I, would of had felt it insult their integrity." She said as the white dress she wore swooped in front of her, her natural voluptuous form making a slim shadow from the afternoon's sun. _

_"Oh then I beg pardon Mlle Daaé, I beg your pardon! It was never my intentions to insult a woman of your stature..." he commented slyly into her ear. She felt his breath graze her neck and goose bumps ran up her spine. _

_"Oh and what is my stature monsieur?" She asked curious, turning again to look him in the face. _

_"The princess of all Prima Donna's of course!" He said bowing in front of her. _

_She laughed heartily, and remembered in the back of her mind somewhere, that she had not done this in ages. _

_Slowly she step towards him and wrapped the edges of his black cloak around herself. She looked into the deep black material that framed his chest, the sound of birds chirping around them and children laughing. She was so cold, so very cold in the warmth of this sun, but she could not tell why. She only wanted to prolong this moment, this happy bliss with her angel, which is why she did not tell him. _

_"And, what was your intentions?" She said looking up into his eyes, His beautiful amber eyes that when they were soft with love, could hold her lost in a trance forever and more. _

_Slowly he lowered his head gently brushing her lips with his showing her the simple and devoted love she knew that for a long time she had been lacking. He smelt of candle smoke and parchment, just as she remembered. _

_When she opened her, eyes she saw he had still not open his own, from the elegant and ever so brief showing of affection in the public place. _

_"Yes..." She whispered. _

_"Yes?" He asked confused. _

_"Yes, I do love you..." She said answering the question that had been plaguing his mind, for now she knew, no matter what she did, even if he was gone, he needed to hear her say it. He needed to hear the words before he believed. _

_Again, those amber eyes turned soft and he leaned back down to kiss her. _

_She closed her eyes in anticipation when a wave of excruciating pain swept through her body like a wave. _

_"Christine? What's wrong?" Erik asked her as she began to crumple before him, He went to pull her close but her stomach got in the way, within those small seconds it had grown. _

_"What is... what's wrong?" She asked and was pulled back to reality before she had a chance to say goodbye to her love. _


	10. Faith

**An** - I'm being very horrible to you, readers. I went back to previous chapters and added even more to them. Please forgive me! If you don't wish to go back and read, I'll understand… but I am a very bad editor, and I realized there WAS a lot of spelling mistakes, and such, so I wanted to fix them. Then I ended up adding stuff :S Also, I thought about two totally separate incidents (although I'm also aware that there are other ways to reason this… but for the sake of argument, bare with me.) When we have our characters delirious, they always speak French, or even sometimes just out of habit, but in to each other, wouldn't the majority of the Native born Parisian's speak French? Not English? Therefore having some of it only translated, being a paradox. Therefore, I changed the fact that Christine did it. Instead, now she speaks in Swedish when she is feverish, since she was indeed, a Swedish girl. Sure, she knows French! It's possible she didn't speak Swedish either! But delirious foreign language-ness is hawt. With a capital w. I realize that my Swedish grammar is probably worse then my English, but I have no Swedish friends, so bare with me, I just used a translation site…. 

**Chapter Ten: Faith**

_**Can you bow out  
when they're shouting  
your name? **_

"NOOO!" She screamed, upon arrival to a conscious state. _Where am I? Where is Erik?_ She was so frightened and alone in this new pain, that all she wanted was to return to the comfortable embrace of her lovers arms. The park, how they had been so comfortable, so gentle with each other, why had they been ripped apart?

She looked at her stomach, swollen with life. Suddenly the pain made sense, as she held herself asking herself whose it was. She tried to remember, and all she could think of was that face, the stark white mask and those amber eyes. Was it Erik's? It had to be, who else was there? She knew there was something missing. Wasn't Erik dead? She had been so sure, had that been all a dream?

She certainly got a surprise when he entered her room, bringing with him a basin of water and more towels.

(')'  
-

_**This hour shall see  
your darkest fears. . **_

Erik saw her staring at him in wonderment and did not know what he was going to do.  
His first instinct was to play the ghost aspect of it, until she moaned out for him.

"Erik, Erik it hurts..." She started to say, "Min ängel! Ängel av musik är tillbaka."

Erik checked her head to find it was feverish. He breathed a heavy sigh. She was speaking in Swedish? She had never used her native tongue in front of him, and if he hadn't spent sometime in Sweden for awhile, among many places in his travels, he would have been quite confused. He felt a little more at ease knowing that she was delirious, if she was feverish, she would not be taken seriously about him being there, and she may even think he was an apparition. However, he knew that there was a curse amongst this blessing. After all, her being feverish would not help her pass a child that was already being brought into this world under harsh circumstances.

His heart was in his throat, and he hated himself for admitting it, but he wished that Raoul would get here.

Yes Raoul! He was wishing that the man who stole the only love of his life would get here to take care of her!

_Oh that insolent boy_, He thought bitterly, still feeling his rage to kill.

Where the hell was he? He would definitely kill him if Christine died!

Of course, he knew that it wouldn't be the younger man's fault, but he would be so stricken with grief, he knew that nothing would stop his blind rage and fury, for the one thing that always had stopped him. His one love, Christine would be dead, and no one would stand in the way on his decent into madness.

Leaving him the opportunity to be rid of the Vicomte once and for all.

He wanted to be with her, he truly did, but he could not do anything for her while there. All he knew was that if he went to his small cabin, he could concoct an herbal remedy to bring her fever down so she could have the baby under its irregular conditions already.

So, he sat there, washing her forehead, as her breathing was reduced to short haggard breaths of air, and he saw the life slipping away on her. The color was draining from her face, and her eyes were frantic.

"Var er jag? I am so terribly afraid..." She said incoherently.

"Relax Christine, relax my love... breath in, breath out..." Erik said as her first contraction gripped her and she screamed out in pain. He held out his hand to her so she may hold it, and looked away as she unknowingly dislocated two of his fingers. He felt as if he was going to vomit, to see her in this state.

_She is not ready; she will never be ready for this..._ He thought.

Slowly her gripped loosened and when he looked back, she had fallen asleep again from the pain.

"She is this way monsieur..." He heard Michelle say loudly, as to give him warning they were on their way up.

"How could you leave her alone?" The midwife and doctor both said to her.

"There were no other servants left in the house. Madame! It is because Mme de Chagny gives every servant leave when the Vicomte goes away. She says that people have to experience the quality of life and will never do that cooped up serving arrogant brats. We had no other way, Charlotte had left to warn the Vicomte as soon as possible." Michelle explained defending her actions.

Erik, got up gracefully, careful not to make a sound and retreated to the balcony, where he was now waiting to see what the Doctor was to do.

"She really is a caring soul isn't she?" The Dr. Leblanc said.

"Yes Doctor, Charlotte and I stay with her because we have no where else to go, she is like our sister, though we should never mention this to anyone else." She said shyly as they came closer to the room.

"That's understandable, Michelle, you do not want to ruin her position in society." the Doctor murmured not really thinking of her stature.

They reacted the same way he had at the sight of the disheveled Vicomtess, bloodied and unconscious in her bed. The Doctor stared steadily at her body, lying in the bed, covered in blood. The midwife had to look away before she could turn back to the site of Christine's position.

"Dear lord have mercy..." The midwife said, crossing herself and rubbing her rosemary beads.

"Michelle, take my coat please, this is to be a long night..." Dr Leblanc said gravely.

This confirmed what Erik already knew.

Christine, well... Christine's chances were...

_NO!_ He refused to believe that.

He would not think that! He quietly started to think of the herbal remedy's he knew that he could concocted so at least the pain wouldn't be as fierce, giving her more of a chance.

"Whose cloak is this?" Dr. Leblanc asked and Erik peeked to look and see that he had left his black cloak still wrapped around Christine.

"It was the Vicomte's sir, she was wearing it in reminder of him while he was away... it is his old one sir..." Michelle said trying to find a suitable lie.

Quickly she looked over to the balcony, not seeing him, but knowing he was there.

The Doctor seemed to be satisfied with the answer Michelle produced and unwrapped the black cloak, beginning to undress Christine. "How did the Vicomtess get on the bed?" The midwife asked cautiously. "I uh… there was…" Michelle began. Both the doctor and the midwife looked at Michelle expectantly.

_Damn it!_ Erik thought, _why must people be so stupidly curious? _

Just as Erik was sure that Michelle was going to break down and admit Erik's secret, Christine let out a blood-curdling howl.

"ERIK!" She screamed, having the Dr. Leblanc and the midwife, look at her with a mixture of horror and surprise. "It's the name she had chosen on if her child were to be a boy." Michelle said, rushing to help the doctor undress Christine faster. Struggling, he got out of the way, as the midwife began to undress her as well.

"Michelle, you must tell Erik, Tell him that I know… I see now, I love him!" Christine cried out as she gave into another contraction. "Yes Madame, I shall tell your child, I shall tell him." Michelle said, trying her best to cover up Christine's constant innocent betrayal. If the doctor or the midwife found it odd or thought it was untrue, their faces never showed one sign of disbelief. Erik sighed a shaky sigh, part relief, and part sadness at her desperation for him to be there.

"Mlle's, this might be the best job for you two." Leblanc told Michelle and the midwife. "I shall be preparing for the delivery. When Charlotte gets back Michelle, one will have to send for Father Leverett."

Erik took this as his chance to bow out and return home to find something, anything that would help Christine and her child.

(')'  
-

_**A red scarf . . .  
the attic . . .  
Little Lotté . . . . . **_

_Christine was a child again, skipping along the road dressed rather comfortably for the weather. Her curls bounced as she skipped along side her father, her protector, the only man she loved. _

_Suddenly in a gust of wind, her scarf flew from her neck. _

_"No!' She cried out a desperate plea, as the scarf blew out to sea. She watched as it danced in the wind, before it fell onto the waves. She wished to run after it, to be the scarf itself, she wished to be free and do as she pleased, to sing and dance weightlessly like the scarf had. _

_"I will save it for you Mlle!" A boy, older than her called and, against the pleas of a woman with him, he ran into the bitter cold sea to retrieve the small scarf that's only purpose, up to that point when it had danced carelessly, was to look pretty on her throat.  
When he had it in his hand, he began to swim back to her, diving under the waves and back up. The sun was glimmering in Christine's small eyes, making it hard to see him clearly, until that boy grew into a figure of a man as he walked up the shoreline. _

_"Here is your scarf, my love." The stranger said to Christine, and she noticed that the world around her was fading to black. Scared, she looked to her right, where her father had been standing. _

_No longer was he there; she was alone. Alone with a man calling her his love and she was afraid! Not of this man, but of the dark. She was afraid of the dark. _

_"Protect me!" She yelped running into the strange, handsome man' s arms. They were strong, and she felt safe in them, like she would in her fathers. She knew that he would take care of her, he was so kind… so gentle. _

_"I will always feel the need to protect you Christine..." She heard him say as she held on to his legs for dear life and shut her eyes. _

_Suddenly her fear went away, she felt safe in this man's arms. He would protect her, he would love her, and he would be there to serve her needs lovingly and tenderly forever. _

_She loved him, everything would be fine when she was in this man's arms. He was not dangerous, like the dark that surrounded her. _

(')'  
-

_**Should he suspect her  
God protect her! **_

Raoul did not wait for the carriage to stop.

Instead, as the horses were slowing outside the chateau, he opened the door and jumped from the cab. He did not even stop to help Charlotte out.

If she was offended she didn't say anything but followed quickly behind at the same running pace into the manor. As fast as he could, he ran up the stairs, two at a time. He made it in time to find the midwife coming out of the room with a grim expression.

"Is she?" He asked. She crossed herself, and shook her head sadly, as she began to walk away. Panicking he opened the door to Christine's room only to find the doctor holding a small bundle in his arms. He stopped, not expecting to see the man rocking the infant back and forth.

"Is, that... my child?" Raoul asked walking closer.

"That she is, my dear young man." Doctor Leblanc said trying to smile.

Raoul took a step closer, only to see a very, very small child in the arms of the elderly man.

Her eyes were closed and she was a pink little ball of flesh, beautiful, and tiny. So small, and yet she was so quiet. It was eerie to him, weren't newborn babes suppose to cry?

Suddenly, he felt ice run through his veins.

"Is she?" He started.

"I don't know, if she makes it through the night, then the chances are she will live. Only time will tell. I tried to have Michelle go for Father Leverett, however apparently he is on leave until tomorrow. It's going to be a trying night for you Vicomte."

"And what of Christine?" He asked looking to the woman shaking uncontrollably under the covers. The doctor's eyes grew sadder, then they turned to look at the mass of flesh and agony that had become of the once beautiful Vicomtess.

"I am not going to lie to you, there is very little hope." He said staring back down at the child in his arms, and passing the girl over to her father. "I must go, there is nothing I can do for either of them. I suggest you spend some time getting to know your daughter, if… chances make it so you may not." Leblanc said and walked away from them. Raoul held his daughter for the first time and suddenly felt at loss for words.

Here, he was holding the world in his arms, and knew that it was possible she would slip away into nothingness leaving him void.

He looked over at his wife who was struggling against death and back down to his daughter.

Finally, he passed the girl over to Charlotte and went over to Christine's side.

"Dearest?" he asked getting closer to Christine. She slowly opened her eyes, making his heart leap for joy until they did not clear and he could see the hazy confusion in them.

"Vem er du! Bli bort! Var er Ängel! Ängel av musik!" Christine screamed trying to escape him. Slowly he backed away from the bed and looked over to Charlotte, rocking his daughter back and forth.

"I shall be in my study Charlotte, please put… the child… in her cradle." He asked and began to make his way down the steps.

He may not speak Swedish, but music was music in almost every language he heard it in… and he was doubting he reminded Christine of Melody's long past. Now he sat in his study, biting his knuckles, waiting for Christine's fever to break so he can be with her without her feral fear of him. Again, when Charlotte had walked down the steps, he asked of Christine's condition. Numbly he walked into his study and poured himself some brandy. Part of him wanted to race to Christine's side and bleed for her, if it meant she would be alright, and part of him wanted to stay as far away from the room as he possibly could.

He admitted it; he didn't have what it took to see the light in her face slowly slip into the darkness he tried for so long to keep from her.

Looking over to his bookshelf, he saw his bible.

Raoul was a known religious man, and yet, he had truly never been devoted.

Yes, he and Christine went every Sunday to mass, he donated to Father Leverett's collection plate, but he had always thought it to be to make an appearance, and keep social ties.

Now, there he was, feeling ashamed to even ask for God's help in this time of his life where he could loose it all. As he fell to his knees and bowed his head, letting his soft blonde hair fall into his eyes, he began to pray.

(')'  
-

_**Say your prayers,  
black angel of death. **_

Erik rushed down to the property with the vile of liquid in his hands.

It had taken him the three and a half hours away from Christine to make it, and in that time, he had seen the Vicomte's return.

_"Good,"_ He thought mechanically_, "At least someone who loves her is there now." _

He tried not to make comparisons between his book and the situation at hand, his over annalistic mind always finding it's way to work at the most emotional of times. Slowly he made his way down to the Estate that was in an eerie silence.

Swiftly, he climbed up the drainpipe once more, to the room where he left Christine. Once making sure no one was in the room other than Michelle, he entered quickly.

"Where is her husband?" He asked the timid girl who held his secret.

"He has shut himself up in his study and refuses to see no one except Mme once she has waken." Michelle said, trying to vocalize to the intimidating man that the Vicomte was emotionally broken.

Erik felt rage enter him again. _The selfish child! He cannot even look past his own needs to see that he should be here beside her? _

_I would KILL him if he didn't have a child to support now! _

Slowly he made his way over to the fussing Christine. She was deathly pale, like the moon this evening and if he had not known the consequences of this beauty, he would of found it intriguing.

"I shall keep watch..." Michelle said getting up to leave, partly because if he was found in the presence of the Vicomtess, he surely would be arrested, or even murdered, and partly because he terrified the girl so much she did not want to be in the same room.

Before the door was eve closed, Erik was beside Christine, aiding her head so that she drank the bitter liquid.

The taste on her tongue woke her from her feverish dream, and he found she was still extremely incoherent.  
"Erik, Erik please..." She whispered with a rasping voice and hazed eyes, not at all surprised to find him beside her.

It confused him, but he accepted it as her believing she was hallucinating.

"Erik, where is our child?" She whispered, clutching his shirt.

"Our... I... Christine..." Erik began, not knowing what to say.

"Please Erik, I fear for her, see if she is alright, please check if our daughter is alright..." Said the babbling and distressed, young woman before him.

"I cannot do that right now, I have to stay here to make sure your medicine works." Erik said trying to keep himself calm and collected.

"Where are the children? Where is..." She was loosing curiousness again and he thanked the gypsies once again for teaching him the art of medicine. She needed to rest, or she wasn't going to make it through the night.

"Promise me you will check on her," She said, "Erik, Promise me!" her muscles beginning to spasm in pain.

"I promise..." He said, hoping this will calm her so she could relax and let the drug take over.

"Sing to me Angel, please sing to me, sing me to sleep so I can sleep with the angels, till sova, till sova med det ängel av musik…" She said trying to stop herself from tossing back and forth...

Erik began to softly sing her a wordless melody... almost instantly when he begun, her body, racked with pain, relaxed and her short, rapid breath began to follow a pattern. Within minutes, she was asleep.

He had gotten up to exit through the balcony door, when he felt someone staring at his back; it was a sixth sense he could not shake and hated more than anything. For anyone to stare at him was a great offence and most paid dearly.

He never suspected when he turned around, to see Michelle there, with her cheeks stained by tears.

"Here is your cloak monsieur I took it before, the Vicomte could see." She said holding out his bloodied cloak. Silently he took it and turned to leave once more.

"Monsieur do not tell me after years of service to the Madame, you would break her a promise..." The meek girl said, still in awe by the majestic and luminous aura that his voice held.

"Mlle, surely you would not dare to tell me what I should to do..." Erik said only with a touch of venom, for he knew she was right. He had never once broken a promise to Christine, so why would he now? Even if she did believe the child under this roof was his and wouldn't have asked him if she knew the truth.

"I shall show you the way, rest assured Monsieur, no one will see you, the Master is in his study, and the doctor left a short while ago." Quietly, Michelle tiptoed him to the cradle that had been set up in the guest room of the large manor.

She then left him to watch the child in quiet wonderment. She was very tiny, but he could tell that she was to be the exact replica of Christine herself. Slowly he touched the small child and realized how much danger she was in as well. She had been a month early, and for her tiny exterior, he could tell that tonight was a crucial test for survival for both the female de Chagny's.

Feeling the tears begin to well, he spotted a window on the other side of the room, he quickly slipped out and began to tread his way home before Michelle could open the door and see where he went.

As he returned to his cabin, he slunk to the floor, feeling his legs give out.

She couldn't die, nor could her little one. If they died, he would have no reason to live, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of dying.

He did not want to die! He wanted to be a better man, in seeing that little girl he knew what he had fully given up. It was the first time he realized that he had not only given up Christine, and a normal life, but the lives together they could create.

And in knowing this knowledge, he felt something else, he knew that that was not the last time he would see that little girl and he had to stay alive for her, even if Christine did die.

Oh but how hard that would be, and how miserable he would be.

So there, on his knees, for the first time since Father Mansart exercised him, Erik began to pray.

To pray for the life of Christine, and the unnamed child she bore.


	11. Dying

AN - Another Chapter. Hurray! I have nothing to say!

**Chapter Eleven: Dying **

**_Wishing I could  
hear your voice again . . .  
knowing that I  
never would . . ._ **

_Heaven is a magical place, one full of love and peace. _

_No longer did I fear the decisions that had plagued my mind my whole life, no longer was I weighed down by my love or fear. For love is an overrated emotion, I found in arriving here. _

_There is something better than love. Yes, something more pure and warm than love. Something leaving us in a suspended state of content fulfillment, much like a final release during a session of lovemaking. Then double that pleasure and add more clarity, peace and blind faith. There is no word in the all spectrums of human language for it. French, English, German... _

_Nothing could describe this wondrous and magical peace. _

_If I could describe the luxurious and glorious feeling that enwrapped my brain, I would suggest that the most earthly thing I had ever done that could compare to this was sing with Erik. Perhaps when I finally stopped fighting the fear and allowed the music to ride me, like a wave of bliss that did not cease, but continued in rolls of blind feeling. My voice would detach from my body and entwined with Erik's in complete harmonious sanctity. _

_Erik, the angel of music and my appointed guardian, He was soon to be mine, I realized as I felt myself float towards majestic lights with a longing heart. _

_"Christine..." I heard a familiar voice call out to awaken all my senses. _

_I could smell, taste feel and see this wondrous voice, but, I did not need to hear it or any of those things to know it was my fathers. Suddenly I was drifting farther and farther away from those very gates... _

_"It is not time... not yet..." I could hear my father say, as I felt as if I were being dropped back to earth. _

_"Soon... but not yet..." I heard. _

( ' ) '  
-

**_I remember  
there was mist .  
swirling mist._ **

Christine awoke with a sudden jolt, her body engrossed in a fierce pain.

"ERIK!" She screamed upon arrival from her dreams. She looked down at her hands to see them trembling in fear and agony. She felt as if she was on fire, aching from years of exertion. All she could think of doing was resting, but fear kept her breathing hard and wide-awake. As she looked around the unfamiliar room, she realized she did not know where she was, or what she was doing...

All she could remember was her father, and going to the Paris opera house in search of a home, a place to belong. That is where she met her angel of music, Erik.

She knew something was missing, something very, very important, and try as she might, she just couldn't place what was gone. Sleep hung around her like a dark shroud, mocking her to surrender.

Slowly she looked over to the door that was open, leading to the hallway, only to see the figure of a man standing there. A broken and discouraged man, one who's face looked as if she had cut his heart into a thousand pieces and scattered them on the floor as rose pedals to satisfy a hobby or obsession.

A face of a man she did not know.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Think of me,  
think of me waking,  
silent and resigned.  
Imagine me,  
trying too hard to put you  
from my mind._ **

"She has amnesia, Monsieur..." The doctor said to the Vicomte who was leaning against the mantel to the fireplace that he kept his brandy, which he was drinking an awful lot of these days.

"Amnesia, right... the question is sir, was this really the wretched aftermath of her terrible labour and illness, or does she choose not to remember?" Raoul said feeling bile rise from his stomach.

He had not hated anything for almost a year now; the exit of the _Phantom of the opera_ had helped him quell his fears. However, he had a new rival, the Phantom of Christine's mind...

A force that, even he, could not stop, kill, hurt or compete with. In death, Erik had secured a place in Christine's heart, and it was to his dismay that it would always be that way. At first, he thought he had won Christine, only to find her slip away from him in front of his very eyes. Mistakes had been made on both their parts, giving him time to wonder if he had made the right choices.

Was he wrong to hide her pregnancy from her? Was he wrong to go above her head and make her no longer sing while she was expecting? Was it cruel of him to take her to the opera to see Carlotta sing her favourite opera?

Whatever Raoul did, he didn't know how he could fix the changes that had taken place.

"Are you that selfish monsieur?" The doctor awoke him from his bitter rage.

"Excuse me?" Raoul said turning to find an angry and twisted face of the doctor who had always been so kind to him.

"Your wife has been on the very brink of _death_ and returned to you and is expected to make a full recovery. You have a beautiful little girl upstairs in a room right beside hers. Both were expected to die, and yet you find that even though you have been blessed with the gift of two lives, you have the right to be angry that she cannot remember you? And worse yet, of a medical problem, not of her OWN FREE WILL?" The Doctor boomed in a threatening voice that took Raoul back.

Shame and grief washed over his mind as he absorbed what the man in front of him was saying.

Christine might of screamed out for Erik, but if she couldn't remember him, then maybe she couldn't remember why she chose him over the terrible and murderous monster that had captured her.

"I... I beg your pardon doctor, you are right, I am, I should have seen this from her eyes." Raoul said walking with a heavy heart to flop down in a chair beside the hearth.

"It is not I who you should be begging pardon from good Vicomte, but the woman upstairs who does not recognize or understand where she is..." The Doctor said quietly and excused himself.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Angel, my soul was weak -  
forgive me . ._ **

Erik watched as the Doctor left the house, wrapping his cloak tightly around his throat, as if to ward off the cold, tiresome night. _He has examined her and left, that must mean the medicines I provided Christine with worked._

Slowly he walked a few feet to the left so he could peer into Christine's old room. He saw her stir and roll over in her sleep. Erik finally let go of the breath he had been holding for almost six hours.

She would live, she would live and everything would be fine. Nothing ill would behold her and she could go on living a normal peaceful life as a wife and now a mother.

As relief swept through his body, he realized how exhausted his old body was and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep on angel's cove.

( ' ) '  
-

**_The world forgot him,  
but I never can . . .  
For in this darkness  
I have seen him again . . ._ **

"Danielle, little Danielle had a pretty pair of shoes..." Christine hummed softly to the two-week-old child. _She is finally asleep_, Christine realized as she lowered the tiny infant down into the cradle. Gently she rocked it back and forth, dreading going down to sit with Raoul.

Her amnesia didn't last long, before Raoul even began to start to tell the tragic and wretched tale of their past that they did not want to relived, she knew. She knew that she had betrayed herself, she knew she had betrayed her beloved, she knew she had betrayed her angel. It was then that the immense feeling of shame and guilt washed over her, in realization that she had wanted Erik, and screamed and begged and called for her husband's rival. She vaguely remembered telling him to get away from her in her native tongue, cursing and thrashing and wishing only her angel of music would save her from the agony.

She knew she had almost died, because more than once she had felt him there with her, heard and saw him beside her. She had not been afraid of her Erik, her love, a spectre, ghost, figment, phantom of her soul, heart and mind.

When she came to know what she had down she want to curl up in a little ball, and seriously contemplated if dying would of been better, at least then Raoul could not have heard the blasphemous treason her heart had preformed. _Why? Why must everything be so bloody complicated? _She asked herself._ It was suppose to end! I was suppose to leave it all behind me! they both begged me too! Why can I not fulfill my promise to both of my lovers?_

For a moment, as Raoul continued at the very beginning of their ill-fated love, she thought of continuing to portray she did not remember, at least then she would not need to fear his sadness and grief.

However, her treacherous heart betrayed her once more, she begged him to stop, and he knew that she remembered. She looked into his eyes, allowing her pity and her fear to enter them. She saw something die in Raoul's eyes, something she had not expected. She was sure he knew now that those memories that he had been forever trying to rid her mind of were not there because she couldn't shake away the horrors, but because she longed to relive them with every fiber of her being. He did not know that for them both, she just wanted to be able to walk down the path of memory lane, without tripping on broken dreams, covered in thorns.


	12. Is This Living?

**AN -** I have always **wondered** how Raoul proposed to Christine in the musical... and what they did when she was gone for the off season of the Opera Populaire after Bouquet was killed. So I made it up! YAY!

**Literarydoodle** - Neat! so you remember the ol' days. I miss the old days some days.

**Lavender - **are you still out there?

**sbkar - **Thank you for your constructive criticism over my grammar. I've been told it's my worse fault... unfortunately I do not have a beta. I believe in them, but they have to be someone who can do it whenever your ready, and I hate putting myself on people as well as being let down cuz they take too long... I think I should try to find someone I talk to often to do it.

**Tracy137 - **I agree with you, my story is stupidly slow... but I think it was the only way to build that angst properly, I wanted to try writing it as I would a book, and if I wanted it to be realistic, I had to have Christine's devotion to Raoul dwindle properly.

Everyone else, thanks for reviewing... I'm not a huge person with returning reviews with comments... but I think I'll try starting, is a nice was for the author to recognize his or her phans. I just hate it when I think it's going to be a super big update and it's all review comments.

**Chapter Twelve: Is This Living? **

**_With feasting and dancing and song,  
tonight in celebration_ **

Raoul looked down at his month old child while Monsignor Leverett christened her. Those large blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, held so much wonder that his heart constricted. How could anyone not love such a beautiful and fragile creature? He was stricken with deep emotional bliss at the thought of her there, to always smile up at him, to love him like no other had, the way he would love her.

He longed to touch her, to hold her in his arms and feel the gentle burden of her weight against his shoulder, but he kept his composure as Father Leverett christened Danielle in front of them. He looked to see Philippe standing beside him, looking rather rigid and cool. Meg was standing to the side of Christine, holding the Danielle's candle, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Looking at her, Raoul realized how beautiful his wife's friend was, when her face softened with love over the little girl. He watched just how sweet and gentle she was while she watched Leverett intently. He missed that in Christine, those gentle moments that were passed between them so long ago. A soft smile here, a gentle caress there, those were the things he had found the most irresistible in his young wife, and now they barely spoke, let alone touched. He looked back down to Danielle in her elegant white christening dress, which was falling around her as Leverett finished the christening with "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Once Father Leverett was finished, he handed Danielle to Christine. It was once they had her, that Christine and Meg began to banter joyously over the baby. Watching them wistfully, Raoul made his way over to his brother who was speaking with the father.

"Yes Monsignor, the de Chagny's would be more than honoured to give a large donation towards the church." Raoul overheard Philippe saying. Holding back the urge to roll his eyes or stiffen, he smiled gently at his brother and the priest.

"Thank you brother, for witnessing this blessed event." Raoul quietly said to him once he approached. Philippe nodded in acknowledgement and then cleared his throat. There was dead silence between the three men, before the Comte finally found a reason to take leave of the small circle. He bowed his head to Raoul and muttered something about business meetings he must attend to, then made his way to the back exit of the church. As Raoul watched his brother leave he felt empathy towards him, Philippe had always been the one to be there for him, the one who was always sensible, and it was Raoul who had the beautiful daughter and wife. "Thank you, Monsignor, for your services today." Raoul said gently.

"It was an honor my son, to baptize one of the De Chagny's one last time before I may die." The older man replied. "I only had wished to be back from my pilgrimage sooner to do the blessing."

"I wasn't going to have anyone do it but you Monsignor, especially when the doctor confirmed that Danielle was to make it." Raoul explained.

"I heard, it was a tragedy avoided… You almost lost your precious wife as well…" Leverett added, and then looked towards Christine and Meg who were holding and playing with Danielle. It was well indicated in his tone that he had heard about the rumors of the marital bliss between Christine and Raoul, rumors that involved Christine and another man, adultery and Danielle being a bastard.

It didn't help their position in the rumor mill that they had both decided that they were not going to hold an extravagant party to honor Danielle. Raoul had agreed with the very honest words that Christine had spoken as to why she refused the idea.

"I will not have our daughter exploited for their morbid curiosity. Besides, why would they all want to come to a party of a child they do not believe to be yours, that would be sacrilege!" Whatever the reasons behind them, the rumors were fallen on deaf ears, for Raoul and Christine chose to ignore the wretchedness of everyone else.

Raoul helped Christine up into the carriage and then past her Danielle, before ascending himself. Once in, he gave Christine a brief smile and signaled the driver to take them home. The ride was a good 20 minutes and though the tiny cries of Danielle rang through the air, the trip was rather silent. Christine and he were not fighting anymore and had become rather civil, not just for the sake of little Danielle, but because they found something in common by loving her.

Yes, civility, it was eating him alive. To be honest, he would have rather been screaming, fighting, hating, anything but civility. It was a rather numb feeling, a feeling of nothing, no love, no hate, though he was sure he still harbored those feelings somewhere. He still loved her; he would still love her until the day he died. However, things had changed, no longer did she look at him with the adoration and unquestioning love she had on her wedding day. Now her kisses and affections were shrouded with mixed feelings and became too painful for both, and they were no longer received warmly.

"What happened at your business meeting the day Danielle was born?" Christine asked, breaking through Raoul' silent barrier. At first he was caught by surprise that she had said anything to break the silence they were so used to sharing. He then realized that he hadn't really thought about the winery since the day he left it in haste for Danielle and Christine.

"Well, I had told them I couldn't support a dying operation, and dying it was. I told them I now had a wife and daughter to take care of, and that is when I was summoned by Charlotte." He started, hoping to go further into the topic.

"Really? That is rather sad, but I'm sure it had to be done." Christine said rather sterilely. It was then he realized, she had just asked him in hopes of filling the void of silence that Danielle had been trying to do all on her own. After all, if Danielle kept it up, her lovely voice should soon be ruined!

Rather frustrated, and not knowing what he was saying before he started, Raoul burst out with "I have to go away again..." In some way, he knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, for her to turn to him like she used to and beg for him to stay, plead with her lovely eyes and shower his face in her warmth.

"For how long?" Christine said without any emotion, all while she was smiling down at the small girl on her lap.

"A few days," Raoul said lying. He couldn't stand it. He had to get away from this heaven that he could not touch. Here she was, an angel he could touch and smell and taste, one that he had done those things, on several occasions with, who no longer favored him. It were as if God had shut the pearl gates on him, and he could see just beyond, his lovely daughter and wife smiling happily, but not for him…

He planned to merely retreat to a small hotel a few Ville's away and just stay there for a few nights. It was all he could think of at the moment, something to ease the rising tension in his chest, a way to ease this feeling of despair.

"Oh, alright... _Petit enfant, petit enfant, dans les bras, de votre mère..."_ Christine sang aloud to their Danielle, and he had to look away from her, he refused to let her see him cry.

They couldn't keep living like this. He had seen it done so many times; he would not relive his father and mother's marriage.

He would go away, and figure out what to do before he got back.

( ' ) '  
-

**_His eyes will find me there!  
Those eyes that burn_ **

Erik quickly walked through the forest, which had become quite dead. October had here and gone, and now all that was left was November's cold sting. He laughed to himself about how easy it had been to be cloaked with invisibility. As a shadow himself, the dark corners most were afraid to venture were his home. Of course, he would never be able to achieve full invisibility, but the fact he could go and watch the couple christened their child, to him that meant he had almost perfected the art.

Little Danielle de Chagny.

It had a nice ring to it he agreed, and the child's indescribable beauty was already to be seen, a tuff of dark hair covering her small head with eyes as blue as her mothers. The way that Raoul and Christine held and looked at their daughter, Erik could not describe in mere words. It was if both of them held in their arms, some priceless treasure, a treasure that would be absurd to part with. They were devote to the girl, was the best way he could simply explain what he had witnessed.

He did notice, however, the stiffness between the parents, which could be put in words. Void, cold, numb, sterile, bland, those were perhaps a few.

_What is this?_ He asked himself, _don't tell me paradise has been lost..._

_Don't tell me I gave her up so that they could live like that!_ He growled.

_I gave up my life! Music, violence, the promise of death, morphine... all of it so I could live longer and watch her live out her days, I would rather die than see her unhappy!_ He fumed.

As he finally reached his cabin, deep in thought over the couple's love for one another, he was waken from his musings, when he observed the carriage that had taken the de Chagny's home. _How odd, _Erik thought, _they have been home a much longer time than I, why would the carriage still be ready to leave?_ Before Erik had time to over analyze and concluded on his many questions, he saw Raoul exit the house with a satchel. Behind him, Christine trailed while holding Danielle in her arms. She looked neither sad nor happy to see him leaving her, which disturbed Erik even more.

_When did she become so indifferent? It had only been a year and the lover's marriage is already in shambles_?

What had happened to the lovely picnics he would witness out door? What happened to the playful bantering, and dancing?

( ' ) '  
-

**_Order your fine horses  
be with them at the door_ **

Christine watched all the servants quietly exit her presence while she smiled at each one as they left her to her home. "Now Jean-Paul, do not get into too much trouble with the young ladies." She warned as the young man passed her.

"No worries Mme., not ladies, just one. One special lady." He said softly with that wistful look of first love in his eyes. Sighing Christine smiled at his foolishness and shook her head in response.

_Young people and their love, I wonder if Jean-Paul would lie to his mademoiselle if he thought it was protecting her._

Once all the servants had passed Christine she stared out the door towards the gates, after what seemed forever she turned to see Charlotte and Michelle standing by the stairs looking expectantly at their Madame.

"Girls! You have lived here a very long time, are you ever going to go out and experience life, other than stay with me?" Charlotte and Michelle looked at each other and then back to Christine.

"We will never leave you..." Michelle said speaking on behalf of both of them.

"No Madame, not ever." Charlotte said, curtsying.

Sighing Christine placed her hand on her stomach and walked towards the smaller girl, Charlotte. When she reached her, she placed her arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to herself. "How many times must I tell you, if you wish to stay in this house when the Vicomte is gone, you are going to have to call me Christine." She said smiling and placing her head on top of her younger servants. She looked over to Michelle, who looked at her with complete understand in her eyes. Christine felt guilty at that moment, knowing in a lot of ways she would always be closer to Michelle than Charlotte. Charlotte was too much like her past self, unknowing, timid, expectant, and much too willing to take orders. She would make a fine wife one day, but now she was only sixteen.

Michelle, Michelle was nineteen. Michelle would make an excellent wife to the right man one day. Michelle was smart, informative when she needed to be, and an artist when it came to weaving the truth through the lies. She kept her head and made decisions for herself, which made Christine miss Meg some days.

_What happened to enjoying your youth_? She wondered, _when where those days I danced the halls of the Opera house with Meg, laughing and weaving stories. When was the last time I lit a candle for father?  
_  
She felt a sudden urge to escape the Chateau and ride away from it forever. Shaking her head to the impossibility of the idea, especially now with Danielle, she settled for a ride.

"All right, well if you insist on staying, I am going to the stables... I wont be back for a few hours so make sure Danielle is taken care of, my girls." She said faintly smiling.

"But Madame!" Charlotte started.

"Come now Charlotte," Michelle interrupted, "We must see that Danielle's sup is ready when she awakens."

Christine closed the door gently behind her and sigh a long breath. Yes, she definitely got along with Michelle better.

As she walked her way towards the stables, she fantasized of Danielle. How her voice would sound, how her feet would dance along the halls. Charlotte chasing the young girl timidly and Michelle catching her at the other end of the hall. "Oh Mademoiselle Danielle, it is time for your lessons," ad carrying the young girl to the next room.

When she reached the stables, she pulled Phantom from his pen and mounted the large steed. Slowly she began to trot him towards the long pasture their yard was made up of, her mind turned to Raoul. It was all becoming too hard. Raoul and she needed some time to figure out what they were going to do. Why was everything such a difficult decision?

_"Oh Raoul… this is such a marvelous place! Thank you for taking me to Italy." Christine bubbled with excitement._

_"It is I Christine, who am blessed by your presence." Raoul replied, smiling charmingly at her and holding his hand towards her._

_"Do you flirt so shamelessly with every girl you meet?" She laughed and gently swatted his arm._

_She looked up at him, falling deeply into those green jade eyes, allowing herself to feel protected._

_"Only the pretty ones…" He started, causing her to scoff. "Now, wait dear Christine, you asked an honest question and deserve an honest answer." He humored._

_"Ah, a gentlemen to his death, Vicomte." She roused and smiled guardedly at him._

_"Of course Mme. Daaé. After all, if I am not a gentlemen, what would I be?"_

_It was like a cold bucket of water hit her, standing there in the middle of Italy, with the sun beating down on her half covered face. Erik! Her mind screamed, Erik… Erik… Erik! Why did you leave him? He was a monster! He killed Bouquet! But you don't know that for sure, you never even asked him! Why would it matter? I was only his pawn anyways, he only taught me to sing so he may use me for his advantage! That is not true, have you ever asked him what he wanted? ERIK! OH, you have left him to die there in your absence! He shall never forgive your deceit!_

_ERIK!_

_"CHRISTINE!" Raoul called again, she awoke from her confusion to see him staring at her with such worry etched into his features._

_"Christine you've had a fright? What is it? You're shaking Christine."_

_"Finish it…" She whispered._

_"What?" He returned._

_"Don't allow me to ruin this moment, for god's sakes Raoul, finish what you were going to say!" She begged._

_The lines creased more in his face, and his eyes clouded even more, but just as Christine was sure that she had completely ruined this peaceful and tranquil day he spoke._

_"I was to say that I only flirt shamelessly with pretty girls, who won my heart the day their scarf was blown out to sea." He stated._

_The worry in his face, the realization that she had been more upset over hurting Erik then the man who so blatantly in love who was standing in front of her, made her feel more guilt than she could ever muster. With a half-sigh, half-sob, she muttered "Oh Raoul," and drew him in for a gentle kiss._

_Once finished she looked up to see that his face had returned to normal, his features lit with love, not worry, his eyes merry and smile charming._

_"Now, now Christine, we wouldn't want people to think you not a lady." He started._

_"Oh, hush, let them think… we are in Italy, no one knows I'm your deviant ballet rat without a chaperone," She started and began to walk._

_"You are not a ballet rat…" he started, "You are my Prima Donna, Christine."_

_She stopped for a moment, there was something in his voice, something that was demanding her attention. Slowly she turned to face him once more._

_"Christine, most people think that we are a young couple on our honeymoon… and I have been telling them that." He started._

_"You've what?" she asked confused._

_"I thought at the time, it would be for the best… so that people didn't wonder where your chaperone is. It was after the first week I realized, it really felt as if we were on a honeymoon… except, um… without… the rel…"_

_"I understand Raoul, you don't have to say it if you don't want to." She interrupted._

_"Without us making love yet Christine, but understand it's not that I'm embarrassed by the thought of making love to you, I ache for it with every fiber of my being… I long to embrace you and hold you against me, knowing you'll be mine till death parts us. I lost you once Christine, I don't plan on ever loosing you again." He whispered in her hair, as he held her tight to his body. Christine's heart began to race; no man had ever been as direct to her as Raoul had just been in those few moments. She was indeed terrified by the thought of 'being his forever' but not because he repulsed her, but because it was something she never thought she would obtain._

_"What are you saying Raoul?" she asked hesitantly._

_"I'm asking you to be my wife, Christine." He said slipping a beautiful engagement ring onto her small finger._

_"Oh Raoul… this is… oh…" She flustered._

It had been an hour into her ride when the carriage had come up beside her.

"Come Madame, it has to do with your child! She has taken ill!" the driver told Christine. Panicked, Christine abandoned Phantom on the side of the road and entered the carriage. When she closed the door she yelled for the driver to continue, and sat back against the cushions.  
The carriage began to race full speed down the road, causing her head to crash back against the wall. Her vision wavered in pain, but even overtop of her grief, and her throbbing head, she knew something was wrong.

"The house is back that way!" She called to the driver, but he continued to drive at full speed _away_ from her estate.


	13. In the Arms of an Angel

AN- Oh dear friends! I got another chapter up, ASAP… impressive no? Also I changed the title of this chapter to in the arms of an angel, (Just like the Sarah Mclachlan song, who knew?) due to Christine's last lines.

**Lily –** I don't actually have AIM, but fee free to email me at

**AngelofNight –** Your right, I did have this posted once, but I've grown as a writer and wanted to improve upon the one thing I wrote that I was proud of. I feel I cant write a new piece, till I finish this… and there would be too much of a gap between the style of writing if I had not rewrote this.

**RosePearl **– Thank you for checking it out, I love fresh readers.

**Wicked Rogue –** incessant babble is my first language, by all means, I understand ;)

**Everyone else –** Thank you for reviewing… I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

**Chapter Thirteen: In the Arms of an Angel**

_**Is no one concerned  
for our prima Donna?**_

Erik watched Christine get off her steed and ascend into the waiting carriage. At first he was only concerned mildly, thinking perhaps her husband had had a change of heart and come back to whisk her away with him on this business trip.

He squeezed his fists tightly and clenched his jaw.

_How sweet, the prince coming back to whisk away the young girl... all is well finally in their happy little world._

It wasn't until after he saw the carriage drive off with undeniable urgency, and that it was not turning around to go back to the estate, the reality of the situation hit Erik hard. If it were Raoul, the carriage would not have taken off so fast, leaving _Midnight, _the horse behind. However, if the carriage were to take Christine somewhere urgently, it would be in the direction of home, towards her daughter. Christine was in danger; his child, his love was in serious trouble. Here was his chance to save her, to make his presence known for a good reason, and yet he was still terrified.

As his mind raced on about how she might rejected him once again, that his life was void enough, that surely this time her rejection would kill him, his body was guiding him towards the horse standing aimlessly where Christine had left him.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Wishing you were  
somehow here again . . ._**

"Excuse me, but you're going the wrong way, my daughter is back that way!" Christine screamed at the wall across from her. Christine knew something was wrong when the driver did not respond. Terror struck her heart chords. _Dear lord, what is to happen to me? What is going on? Where is Raoul to save me? Anyone? _

_I do not want to die anymore! _She screamed in her mind.

_I have a daughter now and do not wish to die! Please lord have mercy this once, do not take me from the arms of my father only to show me what I can loose and send me back now..._

( ' ) '  
-

**_Angel of Music!  
Hide no longer!_**

Erik rode on, as fast as the steed beneath him could go, trying to catch up to Christine's carriage, which had been given a very long head start.

_What if I hadn't been stumbling along the bush? What if Christine..._

_NO,_ He thought, _I mustn't let that happen, I refuse to allow that to happen to you Christine, whatever it is. _Erik allowed all the memories and thoughts of her drain away from him, the one thought that held him to reality, and the one person who kept him as sane as he was capable of. He felt the coldness of death fill him, the desire and itch to scratch at tear away at the perfect flesh of another creature, the serenity of insanity and hunger to kill flood through his veins like spirits that numb inhabitations.  
He picked up the pace; hoping Midnight was not tiring of these extroverts as he himself was.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Past all hope  
of cries for help:  
no point in fighting -_**

"Where are you taking me!" Christine screamed defiantly, pounding on the wall of her small moving prison. "Let me out!" She cried clawing at the wall separating herself and the driver.

"Why are you taking me? Where is my daughter? Is she all right? What is going on!" she continued banging and scratching at the wall.

Fury filled her, pure hot rage flowed from the centre of her being and she felt the urge to spill blood. Hot and furious, she was more angry than scared. She did not assume, like other members of society, that just because you had a title, or were rich that, terrible things could not happen to you. She was much smarter than that, but she felt the words on her tongue; the only thing she could think of was screaming was _I am the Vicomtess de Chagny! You cannot do this to me!_ She thought vilely, that the one thing that the title could give her, that she found remotely desirable, was not even plausible. In fact, she was quite sure that if she were not the Vicomtess de Chagny, she probably would not be in this dire circumstance right this moment. This only added to her rage as she screamed and kicked at the walls.

"Let me go you bastard!" she screamed, swearing for the first time.

"Shut up you little wanton!" Bogart said and thumped the wall back at her, which she was not prepared for. The shock from him hitting back at the wall, and the carriage going over a small bump, sent her flying into her seat and caused her to smash her hand against the window. The sound of glass shattering was heard, along with Christine's sobs, but not because she had cut her hand. It was because, for the first time in Christine's life, there was no knight on a great steed to save her.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Past the point  
of no return_**

**_You do realize how unbelievably cliché this is, don't you? _**Erik mused, _**running after her, on a great dark horse, to save her from harm?** **Very, prince charming, don't you agree?**_

_Oh, shut up! _Another voice interjected, _was I to just leave her? Find a more suitable way to save her, one less conspicuous? There was no time!_

**Don't mind him, he's just putting you down, It wasn't like he offered any amazing idea's on how to rescue her… you just keep riding.**

**_Please, if it were me, I would have left the little tart, after all… she was the one who chose to be the Vicomtess, she deserves all the evils that come with the title..._**

**How dare you! Christine is a goddess, a magnificent creature of beauty…**

**_She's a fraud; she's merely a slip of a girl who never understood the power of real beau…_**

_ENOUGH! I have enough problems right now; I don't want to have to deal with this of all things when I'm trying to get to her. _

Just as Erik stopped arguing with himself, he saw them in the distance. At first, the carriage was just a mere speck among the horizon, but now they were beginning to take shape before his eyes.

It had been a long time since the voices had spoke to him so clearly, it had taken a long time to drown them out, till they were buzzing sounds in the back of his head. It wasn't until now, now that he had forsook his vow not to kill, that the voices began to speak as clearly as they had the last time he heard them. He was as scared of them now as he was back then.

_Erik watched as Christine lay sleeping in his bed, she had come to him earlier, while he was with Nadir. She had confessed then she feared for his safety, and although he longed to belief it was because she loved him, he knew deep within that she was still very naive to his profound obsession with her._

She look's so peaceful there, _he thought, _lying innocently.

**_She's not as innocent as you make her out to be... and even if she is, she has to know by now how you crave her... look at her pouting lips, her bosom rising and falling... _**

**How dreadful! You shouldn't say such things about his dear Christine! She's merely a child... Besides, when he takes her, he wants her to love him.**

Enough! The two of you! I never asked for you're opinions...

**_Ah... but you got them, Erik... Just imagine what she'd feel like, gliding your hands over her as you do your ivory... do you think her skin feels as soft? Perhaps, not as cold._**

**Her skin is rather perfect Erik; do you think perhaps that it's perfect all over? Maybe just a peak under her nightgown, nothing could come to harm if you just look.**

_**Right,** **just a look... and remember Erik...You're five stories down... if she didn't like our little game, no one would hear her scream.**_

I SAID ENOUGH!

_He almost sobbed; terror cut through his body... such evil, impure thoughts about the woman he loved._

You're both sick... and twisted... and apart of me, and I hate us all. I hate you...I hate you Erik.

_Allowing the tears to fall silently, he quietly wiped the side of his face that was exposed. Slowly he crept up to her sleeping form and feasted on her lovely face. _"_Oh Christine, why must you always mock me?" he asked her, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She was so close to understanding, so close, he just had to _make _her understand. It wouldn't be too long now, he had big plans for her the opening night of Il Muto, and he would tell her then._

_Deftly, he stroked her temple as he thought about the last month or so. Things were going so perfectly, she was staying away from that disgusting display of everything wrong with society, named Raoul. He loathed the boy, and if it weren't for Christine's good nature, and general curiosity, Raoul would have been at the bottom of the underground lake. Oh, who was he kidding, it wasn't so much he hated the boy, but more or less he feared him. He feared what the nobleman could give his sweet darling Christine. Many things he could not. But what he could give her, would come at the price of her voice, and that was apart of Christine's beauty as much as her smile, her heart, her curls, her laugh, and sweet temperament. It made her that much more an angel in his eyes._

_No, he wouldn't kill the boy, he promised himself and Nadir that unless someone personally attacked him that he would kill anyone again._

_He would not kill him... yet._

_He looked down on her once more and gently bent to her temple. He needed to prove to himself, that he was a man... that normal men think sexual things around the woman they love. The difference lied between thinking and doing. He kissed her temple so softly he tasted her more than felt the skin underneath._

_Coldness filled him, anger and resentment. He loved the things in her that hindered their growth. He wanted to preserve her innocence but destroy just a touch of it so she could understand his full fledge desire for her. It was a sacrifice he was going to have to make. "You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead… NEVER..." he whispered in her ear._

_and with that he walked out of her room._

He remembered that night well. It was the last time Christine chose to sleep in his household, which at the time, he didn't find terribly odd because the show was days away. He hated his own daemons, but when he controlled them, he was almost glad he had them. They gave him insight into the minds of fiends; he knew how crazy people thought, because he too, wasn't exactly sane. He could hate them all he wanted but he needed them to stay alive. Without them, he would be as naive as most men, and they were a small price to pay if it meant that he could rescue Christine. He didn't know what the kidnappers wanted from her, but he was a man. He knew what many men of lower status, who had enough wine, would want to do with a lady of society. Then all he had to do was add Christine's ravenous beauty, and he knew exactly what they'd do. They'd hold her for ransom, and Raoul would pay, but he would never be able to repay Christine her dignity once they tore the dress from her body, and savagely took her over, and over, and over once more. After all, Raoul had just left town, it would take a few days before he got back and received the note that explained his wife's absence. Then it would take at least a few days to procure the monies that he would transfer over to the kidnappers. She would most likely be gone for about a week, and although he was sexually inept, he had heard enough talk in the court of the shah, of how men treated the slave girls, that he was terrified. To take his mind off the horror he felt, he tried dulling the pain by thinking of mundane and trivial things.

_It seems that no one is out riding today_

**I would have thought that another cab would have gone by now.**

**_Are you serious? This is what you're thinking about?_**

_Leave me alone! I don't need the negativity!_

**It's been quite some time since you rode like this.**

**_Since the days with the shah…_**

**You just had to bring that up didn't you, never leave well enough alone!**

**_I'm just saying…_**

_Hush! Listen! I think I can hear her!_

He was right; he was definitely close enough now that he could hear her piteous cries for help. He kicked into Midnight's sides one last time, causing the horse to neigh and add that last bit of speed that closed the distance between the cab and himself.

( ' ) '  
-

**_What was that?_**

Christine heard something behind the carriage, something that sounded of hooves, which sparked a new hope.

**_Don't be silly Christine, don't be a child. No one can save you now, _**

_But what was that noise? Who could it be? Surely, it couldn't hurt to check._

_**Fine. Do as you wish, but don't be surprised when you see nothing.**_

Slowly, to make sure she was not noticed, she peered out the shattered window to see what was trailing behind the carriage. It was her horse Phantom, keeping a steady pace with the carriage and that was it, her dear horse was trying to save her!

It was then she heard the footsteps on the roof.

( ' ) '  
-

**_He's here: the phantom of the opera!_**

Erik climbed up on top of the carriage and carefully walked towards the driver of the cab. As best he could, he tapped the kidnapper on the shoulder, and as he turned, he punched the villain in the face. There was a crack as the hand and flesh met, but neither knew whom it had been from. Blood, hot and red poured from one of the men; the metallic scent filled the air. Erik then punched him once more in the face, freeing more red blood from the wound. He then took control of the carriage and began to steer the horses off the road. While Bogart was down, Erik searched his person and found a blade. Standing, and shaking his head, Erik kicked the villain in the stomach and began to cut the leather straps that kept the carriage and horses tethered together. When Bogart saw this, he lunged towards the dark clad man, but it was too late, the horses were free and turning to the side to get out of the way of the runaway carriage. Erik could hear Christine's screams muffled by the wood separating them as Bogart tried to fight.

( ' ) '  
-

**_I'm here, I'm here,  
monsieur:  
the angel of death!_**

Christine felt blind. She could hear the fight, but couldn't see her champion who was fighting on her behalf. While out the window, she saw they were no longer on the road, but instead steadily careening down a long hill. She finally was beginning to feel the terror's blade begin to dull, when it pierced her flesh again.

The carriage was heading towards a cliff.

( ' ) '  
-

**_I'm here: the phantom of the opera_**

Erik saw the cliff when he heard Christine's penetrating scream. It was a great wall of rock stretching across the horizon. There was nowhere to turn; it was about 200 metres away, but still close enough for him to be worried. He looked down at his attacker to find him unconscious.

_Good, that makes things a lot easier._

_**A cliff! How typical! Oh, this is too good to ruin with words! I think I'll just be quiet and watch this one….**_

_That would be helpful!_

Being resourceful as he was, Erik began looking around for anything that might slow the carriage, or stop their high speeds, desperate to find anything his brain could turn into some device, anything that would save his love. He found nothing, much to his despair. Frustrated, he cried out at the situation and pulled at his wig. It was then he heard the hooves.

_But I freed the horses…_

Turning back to see what was making the sound, what he saw picked up his spirits considerably.

"Midnight!" He called as the horse approached the side of the carriage.

He jumped onto the back of the horse and slowed his pace so he could get to the door that led to Christine.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Whose is that voice . . .? _**

Christine had shrunk back into the carriage afraid of the looming death she could not escape, when the door to the carriage opened. More sunlight shone through the small dark hole, causing her to wince her eyes. Holding up her bloody hand to shield herself from the light, she saw the sleek black hide of her horse.

_Why, Phantom cannot throw open a door…_

She quickly leaned far enough forward so she could see who was saving her from her impending doom. What she saw was a tall, dark figure riding beside the carriage.

A tall, dark figure, wearing a mask.

( ' ) '  
-

**_I am your Angel of Music . . .  
Come to me: Angel of Music . . . _**

Erik saw the shock on her face; a confused, bewildered look, as though she had forgotten he was dead and was merely thinking _"Why, Erik, what are you doing here?"_ the silence was unbreakable for those few seconds, neither spoke nor knew what to say after those months of nothing between them. The carriage lurched a bit causing Christine to shriek. This woke them both from their awe of each other.

"Christine!" He called, trying to sound firm, hoping he still had the power to control her with his voice.

"Christine you must jump!" He called to the young woman inside.

She looked still in awe, quite unaware of her surroundings still, until he called once more.

Erik looked once more towards the cliffs, which were now merely metres away. Holding out his hand, he tried one last time. "CHRISTINE! You must trust me, you must jump to me..." He tried to yell above the hustle and bustle of the creaky carriage.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Angel! I hear you! _**

Christine could not believe her eyes for they were surely deceiving her.

The dead had risen! The lord had granted her odd request and given her back her angel! She did not want to believe; she dared not, for it could be an absurd and cruel coincidence.

Until she heard his voice, his majestic and luminous voice.

An unearthly voice that sang to her in sleep and had been a constant craving since it had no longer rang through her soul in reality.

Even now, as it commanded and begged like an everyday man's it held a certain power. Taking the breath from her lungs and leaving her in suspended motion.

Finally, as he called to her one last time, holding his hand out in a demanding but pleading way, she awoke from the trance only he could put upon her and she made the step across the gap between them.

It was a far stretch, and her wounded hand did not help, but she would not of let this opportunity leave her if there were the English Channel between them. It was if God himself had blessed her by appearing in front of her and taking her in his arms.

She closed her eyes as she saw the carriage loose control and topple over, but she couldn't stop from hearing it rolling and smashing into the giant wall of stone.

She knew how close she had been to having the same fate as the dead wood that just found it's end.

It was then she realized that she was in the arms of her angel, after a year of thinking he was dead.


	14. The Truth

**AN **- I'm back! and with a new chapter... I have to leave for work in four minutes, so I didn't preview it, so if things are sticking together or such, then I'll have to fix them later, I really hate this quickedit, but I already stated that. On a totally random note, I want to be able to use the line "Who am I, to break this young girls heart?" somewhere in the story. It's from the song 'Shining' by Kristian Leontiou. That boy is yummy in more ways then his voice. Rweor.

**Thelostboys78** - Wow, I feel so honoured that I was your first favourite story. that makes me feel like I'm doing something right.

**Lilymunster -** Isn't johnny to die for in that movie? Maybe I took some influences from that subconciously. Oh yummy johnny!

**angelofnight** - Nope, not slowly, you did actually read that. I just am reposting... I really wanted to rework on this, since my writing has probably improved in the last three years ;) :P. So That was the plan, to rework on it. I also plan to finish it, so we know what happens to Dani and Adrienne.

**EVERYONE ELSE - thank you so much!**

**Chapter Fourteen: The Truth  
**_  
**You cannot speak, but kiss me in my  
husband's absence!**_

Erik let go of his breath as he saw the large carriage smash into the cliff. The sight was not one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, nor was the sound of hinges and wood breaking. Yet, knowing whoever was responsible for Christine's kidnapping was dead, made the urge to kill ease just a bit. _He has to be dead; no one could have survived such a crash._

It was then he felt the warm body in front of him let out an air of relief as well. _An air or was it a sob? …_ A _warm body, a warm woman's body, _realizing he still held Christine, his whole framed tensed. Here she was, in front of him, his arms around the solid frame for the first time in over a year.

Her dark curls brushed against the exposed side of his face and he could smell the faint scent of vanilla and peaches. He felt her tense in his arms as well, and wondered how she was going to react to her phantom being her rescuer.

Slowly, those curls brushed pass his mask and he saw the ocean blue eyes staring into his in awe. There was silence, a deafening noise that he didn't know how to break. Emotions soared through his tired body, not caring how fast they were going. He felt horrible, and in that moment he doubted his decision to be there at her side. He couldn't take the immense wonder and shocked building behind those wondrous eyes, causing him to dismount the horse.

He wanted to say something, anything to break this uncomfortable and close contact. Why did he do it? Why did he stay? For this, so he could protect her from things like this. He felt her dismount the horse beside him, causing him to shrink back against the animal. She was going to yell, she was going to scream, rage, and rant about how he should not have come back. Now that she knew about him, he was going to have to leave, he had broken the promise to be by her side forever, by fulfilling the promise to protect her.

Closing his eyes he tried to concentrate on one word, hello. That was all, a simple word that is pronounced very simply. As he was about to sound out the consonants he felt his mouth warmed by the pressure of hers, coming as a total shock to his already fragile state of mind.

The kiss had started out to be small but engulfed both of them with a hunger that neither could describe. A moan escaped him as he realized how good this felt, and how much he would miss it when he was over. He waited for her to pull away, but instead, she tore at his mouth with hers, drinking him into her. Growling against her, he wrapped one hand in her luxurious curls, and the other pressed against the small of her back. They both broke for a moment and drew a long breath, but before she could say anything, Erik risked his chance to kiss her again. Much to his surprise, he succeeded and poured his energy into her through the kiss. Warm, spider tingling sensations crept up his spine and body, holding her so tightly, and keeping the passionate fire ablaze in his heart. He had kept his eyes open for a moment and watched her as they embraced. He wanted to memorize each feature like this. Her eyes closed, her dark lashes fluttering against flush cheeks. Her hair, wildly out of control, her urgency to fulfill his needs radiating from her skin. Erik shut his eyes once more to try and allow himself to let go and enjoy this wondrous moment.

When she did finally pull away, He realized he wasn't just dizzy from the amazing feeling, but the lack of oxygen that he was receiving.

As he took a long intake of breath, he felt a sharp pain in his good cheek, at the same time he heard the sound of hand and flesh meeting.

( ' ) '  
-

_**The tears I might have shed  
for your dark fate  
grow cold, and turn to tears  
of hate . . .** _

She had slapped him in the face.

Why? She did not know. Well that was not true, she had slapped him in the face for showing up NOW after all that time. She admitted to herself she was being selfish, and that she had wanted him long ago. She had wanted him just like this, as her champion, her lover, and her guardian. She could not describe how incredibly safe and glorious she felt in those moments, just minutes ago, when he had saved her from her fate.

Christine saw him open his eyes in confusion. She did not blame him; she did not know what she was doing either.

First, she is kissing someone other than her husband, and then, she was disrespecting and treating him as if he advanced on her.

"How dare you..." She whispered with tears in her eyes, slowly walking away from him and not turning back.

"How dare I what Madame?" He said with wonder and confusion in his voice.

His words stung her, he had not meant to hurt her with them and yet, she had never heard him use the title Madame for her before. She had always been his little Mlle., his angel, his girl, his love, or Christine. _Madame _seemed so cold and formal.

"How dare you come back!" She said searching for a suitable reason to be upset with him. In some ways, she was amused, for he had never seen her like this. Her temper had never completely left after little Dani's birth.

"I have _always_ been! It has never been a matter of coming back." Erik said coming after her.

"You horrible man!"

"How can I be horrible? If it were not for me you could be lying amongst the wood and wreckage back there." He said with a cool disdain that made her shudder.

She looked at him with such visible distress that he realized what he had just said, and how he had said it.

"Christine you must know I did not mean it like that, I..."

"So I see, I have to be on the brink of danger before you can pay me a visit?" She said looking him directly in the eye, and turning once more to hurry off.

( ' ) '  
-

_**I must see  
these demands are rejected!** _

"Oh yes, because one of my visits are such a celebrated event!" He hissed after her.

Damn her! He was trying to be nice. No, that wasn't what he was trying to be, nice was something he didn't express very well. He was trying to be reasonable. Why couldn't she see that in by staying away he had secured her happiness with the Vicomte de Chagny? He saw her freeze from his harsh words, and though he knew he would regret it later, he wanted to hurt her more.

"What possessed you to stay? Didn't I do enough damage back in Paris?" She raged back towards him and stalking off in the direction of her chateau.

"Oh, the damage you did _was_ insurmountable, but I knew leaving you in the care of a _child_ would be condemning you to death, and even you do not deserve that, my dear. I'd rather you alive for many years, allowing the guilt to eat away at you as you wondered what happened to your 'poor, unhappy Erik." He spat loathingly.

He saw her stop turn towards him and raise her hands towards him once more. It seemed this time she was intent to push him, but his instincts kicked in and he ducked her advance, causing her to stumble forward. As she did he grabbed her arm, and pulled her small body against his frame, all while using his other hand to grab her neck.

"Do not tempt me Christine, or have you forgotten that your Angel is really a mercenary for hell? I could break your neck right now if you keep attacking me." He whispered in her ear. He had expected her to shudder, he expected her to cry, maybe even a whimper or some indication that she still feared him, but there was nothing. Nothing at all to indicate that she still was afraid of his presence. Instead she pressed her body against his, calmed her raging breath and sighed lightly at him, as if she was bored or tired with him. He let go and threw her to the ground, hating himself for being so predictable.

"But we both know that is not true, no matter what you do to me Christine, I will always make sure nothing harmful will ever come your way. Call it a curse," He said and walking away from where she lay.

"You could have come and seen me!" She wailed at him, not tearfully but still with much anger. Rising to her feet she ran after him as he stalked broodingly away from her. When she reached him, she grabbed for his shoulder and he flung himself around to face her.

"Now, what would have possessed me to do that? What, indication have you ever given me that you enjoy my company? Was running away from me at every turn your own special way of going 'Oh Erik, I do love the time we spend together, perhaps 'morrow we could dine together?' It was always about that wretched boy Christine. He haunted your thoughts more than I did the halls! Oh yes my dear, How was your wedding? Were you really wishing for a visit when you were being married? You have everything you could possibly want, a wonderful home, a loving husband and your beautiful daughter, Dani. Did you really want your angel of darkness also? I'm sorry my girl, but you cannot have your cake and eat it as well!" He said spouting off a horrible cliché.

"I... You… Do not change this around on me! I..." She said flustered.

_Good,_ he thought. He was winning, and at this point that was all that mattered.

He could care less in this frame of mind if he hurt her so bad that she never returned to his arms. His pride always would get in the way, and right now, he must defend his honour and himself.

"Wait a moment, how do you know I have a daughter?" Christine said, using his angry words against him.

_Oh no,_ he realized, she had advanced and trapped him in this little game of mental chess they were playing.

In his haste and rage, he had forgotten how to keep his secrets. He hadn't done so in a year, when you have no one to talk to it is very hard to keep in shape for these little battles.

"Don't you remember Madame? The angel knows all, the angel sees all..." He said with a touch of venom.

He was trying to keep his temper in control. This was an argument they both could not escape; he just wanted to get his point across now without doing much damage.

He had advanced in the game so that he was no longer trapped, but he would have to keep a steady ear for her words.

"Do not trying and hide behind mystery now, Erik! Tell me the TRUTH! If it is the last thing you do in your life, tell me how you know I have a daughter and most of all how you know I named her Danielle."

Checkmate.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Once more to those  
sweetest of charms  
my heart and soul  
surrender!_ **

Christine wanted to know, needed to know. Her heart was going a mile a minute.

The possibility that her angel had been within a carriage ride's distance away began to bother her. She knew, that once the initial shock wore off, she would have been there in secret everyday, letting herself sink deeper and deeper into his majestic aura. It would of been possible that she would of never had her daughter Danielle if she knew of Erik's existence on this plane still. That was what bothered her most of all.

"Please Erik, Please." She said, loosing her angry tone, and stepping closer to him. She touched his arm, gently, and looked up into his eyes. Those amber eyes, so full of love and hate directed at her. He looked to where she touched his arm, like she was burning him with her hand, but he never moved from the contact.

"I..." He was at a loss for words.

It was then she figured it out. Slowly she dropped her hand, and backed away from him. She couldn't help but feel the tears well in her eyes again. He was never really gone; he had always been there singing songs in her head. Dreams and hallucinations of his presence were not ones of a mad and deranged woman but real as the man before her. He had been there that night so long ago when she spoke her love, he had been there when she was upset and wanted him to check in on "their" child. He was there for her labour on and off.

He was there and always would be. "How far away?" she asked numbly, she couldn't look him in the eye, she couldn't see his acknowledgement yet.

"How far away!" She said finding herself angry once again.

She was not upset with him; she was upset by her hearts betrayal. She would of given Erik the sun if it meant he would live for it, instead of the night he belonged to. She would of left her husband in a heartbeat if he had only asked the words.

Nevertheless, he did not know these were the thoughts racing through her head.

"About a kilometre from your and the Vicomte's Estate."

"ERIK!" She exclaimed furiously, looking up to his face only to find that he was staring at his feet in shame.

He looked up into her eyes challenging her. She could tell he was trying his best to understand this new and broken Christine.

Alas, she had always been broken though, in one-way or another.

Her father, The Phantom, Her angel, Raoul, the personal Opera that played out between them was mostly her doing. Then her pregnancy, always wishing and praying for something to bring him back, though she knew she was happy. Lastly, she had proven to be a hormonal and emotional mess who never regained the patience and virtues of the woman before the traumatic experience.

"Yes Vicomtess?" He said hurting her purposely.

( ' ) '  
-

**_We have all been  
blind - and yet the  
answer is staring us  
in the face . . ._ **

He had said it to hurt her, and it had worked. He saw her flinch at the harsh words. Damn him and his incorrigible anger. He wasn't even really upset; he was just confused as to why Christine would care where he lived, other than to stay away from her.

"You have been only a kilometre away for the last year?" She said, it had been more of a rhetorical question, Erik realized, he could tell by her voice.

He felt sheepish, knowing that he was in the wrong. She was right, it was wrong of him living in such close vicinity as her when they were in love.

Wasn't that what was going on? Surely you can be in love with someone from beyond the grave? He loved her from that very deserted tomb of his mind.

And she, she stated her love clear and true, singing vows to him with her eyes, even when she thought he was a hallucination from pain.

He looked over to the woman who was still standing before him in shock. What was he going to do? He couldn't take her home; he didn't know if it was safe there, he didn't want her to go back where the kidnappers obviously knew she lived.

"Your hand." He said blatantly.

"Yes?" She said still trying to comprehend the impact of all that had happened.

"It's bleeding rather badly." He said taking a closer step, closing the gap between them.  
He took her hand in his and studied it carefully; it was badly cut up, which surprised him since he had never really seen it. He had seen everything in black and white, laced with red, his anger had flowed from him and caused him to get distracted. He rarely ever got that distracted when angry. He definitely was slipping, it was something he was going to have to remedy.

He realized she probably had not noticed till now either and she looked down to it.

"Oh, I must of hurt it when I was trying to escape." She pondered hazily. Just then, she swayed dizzily. He looked at the ground and her dressed, both covered in blood. There wasn't enough blood to cause extreme worry, but there was enough that he knew the bleeding wasn't going to 'just stop'. He un-tucked his shirt and ripped a piece of the end.

"Erik that's your..."

"Hush, I have more at home." He said carefully wrapping the smaller frail hand in the material to try and stop the bleeding.

"That is an extreme wound, we should get you to the cabin so I can tend to it properly." He said clasping his fingers around hers.

"The cabin?" She said curiously.

"Yes, I think it would be safest if you hide out there, until your Vicomte comes back and you are safe. You never know who is waiting to see if the other one got his job done." He said sincerely, truly concerned for her safety.

"He is to arrive at home tomorrow late afternoon." She said nonchalantly.

"Then I suppose you are to spend the night." He said wondering if this would spark emotion.

Of course it did, for she looked up at him surprised and blushed.

He noticed that she seemed surprised she could still do that.

"Then I suppose I am." She said sheepishly, and allowed herself to be lead back to the horse.

Erik mounted Phantom first and them pulled Christine up into his arms. This was the way it was suppose to be, the way it should, with him riding off into the sunset with her.

It would never happen though, and of course, he knew it. She was a mother and a wife, important not only to him but claimed by to other individuals.

Raoul and Danielle.

He would send her back later though, to those who loved her and depended on her the most. He knew the threat of the kidnappers had most likely gone over that cliff with the carriage and man, and yet he wasn't able to let go of this precious woman.

Not yet at least.


	15. Just Breathe

**AN - **I adore music, my favourite song right now is 'breathe' by anna nalick. So may 7th was my 19th birthday! I decided it was time for an update. um... This story is getting close to being done. It's told in two parts, and the first part is getting to be over. The first time I posted the story I posted it all together, but would you new readers prefer the second half apart of the story, or as a sequel?

Lily - I'll AIM you the next time I'm on, I had to end up downloading it to talk to one of my cousin's anyawys.

Amanda17- Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like it

Rikku Ree- Yah, but once you meet the older Danielle and Raoul, you'll understand why Christine had to be with him, even for a little bit. Trust me, I wasnt a huge Raoul fan either.

Bumble0Bee- I awknowledge your reviewing! see? this is me doing so! thanks for that!

Everyone else - feel free to yell at me if you want attention, but instead you should read the story.

**Chapter Fifteen: Just Breathe **

**_Good heavens!  
Will you show a little courtesy?_ **

"So this is your cabin." Christine said, not exactly sure what she should say to break the never-ending silence. The small cabin certainly wasn't the majestic house underneath the opera that she remembered. Although she knew Erik enough to realize he would never allow himself to live in squalor, he loved fine things too much.

The truth was the small dwellings were small and quaint, exactly what she had always pictured herself living in, instead of the large manor she currently resided in. Taking off the cloak he had wrapped around her shoulders, she turned her face to him. He was standing behind her, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His face betrayed no emotion, but Christine knew it was all an act. Erik wasn't the only actor in the household now, she too knew how to plaster fake smiles and feign kindness. It was ironic how easy it was to go from the stage to the role of Vicomtess. It was even more ironic to her, that she became more prone to faking emotions and behaviors when she became Raoul's wife.

She knew that Erik was tired, that he was stunned, and felt awkward with her intruding on his domain. She tried to reassure him with a smile, and even though his eyes lit for the tiniest of seconds, the stern set jaw never flinched. After finally putting his cloak back into his hands, she quietly walked over to his divan, sat herself down, and looked around. It wasn't as horrible as she had initially thought upon entering. In fact, with a few feminine touches, this would be exactly like her dream house, a house that she would never live in due to her status as Vicomtess. Tears threatened to fall at the thought that this felt more like home than the one she lived in for more than a year now.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Erik asked her shattering her thoughts of perfection. He was standing in front of her, staring down at her huddled frame. Why had she given him back his cloak when she was still so cold?

"Uh, yes. That would be wonderful." She said smiling up at him meekly. It was when she saw him again that her memory made sense of it all. For the longest time, Christine had thought many things of Erik. He was her teacher, her father figure, her angel, and a murder. He was an obsessive –compulsive perfectionist, one who scared her and awed her at the same time, but she had never thought of Erik, as just a man. A man who was flesh and blood, who had desires just like any other man, and who had never known a woman's touch other than her careless fumbling when he sang to her. He had wanted a woman, not a child, and had made the mistake of thinking she was what he needed. She now was a woman, and she was acutely aware of him standing over her, only a foot away, half naked. His lithe torso shone out from underneath the torn shirt, faint scars lining his belly. She tried to thinking about something else, other than the ache she felt accumulating in her stomach to just reach out and trace those scars. Slowly he walked over to the fireplace and began to prepare the tea, leaving Christine to her thoughts again. She tried to think of what he was wearing when he rescued her from the back of her carriage. He had been just in shirtsleeves, and the cloak, billowing behind him.

"_Christine!" _He had called to her. _"Christine! You must trust me!" _

"Christine?" He said waking her from her thoughts._  
_  
"Here you are Christine." Erik said placing the cup in front of her.

Quietly, she reached out her undamaged hand and took the cup from in front of her. It tasted completely different and the same all at the same time. Almost choking strong memories flooded her as the tangy mixture of orange, cloves and cinnamon.

"_Erik," She asked curiously one day after lessons. _

_It was a Sunday, the day of rest. For Christine however she did not use it to read fantasy stories or gossip and shop like the other girls. Sunday's carried a strict schedule. In the early morning she went to mass for her father, then proceeded back to the opera house where she'd meet Erik at noon. Together, they'd dine on bread before hours spent dedicated to furthering her voice. After that, they'd have supper and a quiet evening where she either spent the night or was returned to her room quite late._

"_It's a samovar Christine. It makes tea." Erik explained hesitantly._

"_I've never seen one before." She said, furrowing her brow and looking at him cautiously. It wasn't that she thought him a liar; it was just she hated it when she came off seeming naïve or not knowing what certain things were. It was moments like these that made Christine realize that even if Erik didn't sing like an angel upon the earth, that he was still so very cultured it would make her feel small and insignificant._

"_That is because, my child, the French are too obstinate and foolish to enjoy the taste of a much better tea. The samovar is used in the process of brewing Russian tea." He said tracing her jaw with his finger lightly. She shuddered at the touch, how light and soft he could caress her._ _Quickly he pulled away and his eyes clouded over coldly, anger tightened what she could see in his jaw. She turned away angry with herself. She should have never allowed herself to show such willingness to her teacher at his touch, he must be disgusted with her unlady-like manners._

"_You simply must make some, we've never sat down and had afternoon tea together." She said and looked back towards him, hoping to change the look of deep regret on his face._ _Instead, it only made the obvious creases in his face deepen._

Taking another sip of the liquid, she looked at him as he sat across from her. "I'm sorry about the taste, I don't have a samovar to prepare the drink properly, I just use the pot and hope for the best."

She studied him, noticing those lines that were so faint only a year ago, now etched his face. It had been ages since she had seen him this close, since she had been able to just look at him. It was obvious he was trying not to stare. He was looking at the wall as though it had captured his attention. She remembered a time when he had the ability to make her want to study the same wall, just because he was doing it. It was then she realized, she had done the same thing he had done to her, she had placed him on a pedal stool so high, that he had crushed her by not living up to his standards.

_For the love of god Christine! Think of anything else! Think of father, think of the cabin! _When she was a child, she lived in a cabin not so different from this for some time; there were no rooms, no solitude. Everything she had done, she had done with her father's constant vigil. It had been a piece of heaven, which she wished she could get back. Perhaps, sometime in the future she could ask Raoul to take her and their daughter back to the shores of Brittany.

"I suppose I should fix your hand, after all it is why you are here." He said shifting in his seat, finally looking back at her with his intense amber eyes. She met the intense gaze and finally understood him like she never had. She finally was the Christine he needed, the woman he had wanted her to be, and she hated herself for it.

"I suppose that would be best. You should change your shirt, you will catch a cold." She said smiling carefully, so not to reveal her revelation, as he got up and moved behind her.

When he was out of sight, Christine bit her lip. She needed to slow her frantic heart. A heat rose to her cheeks that made her feel like a wanton fool.

_All those nights at his home on the lake, he was a gentleman. That desire in his eyes, I know what it is now. I never knew because no one has ever desired me the same way. I have seen half of the passion in Raoul's eyes before, but that was long after I had left Erik. Why couldn't things just be so much easier? I thought things were supposed to be happy and delightful. All I feel is torn between the father of my child and an angel descended from heaven._ She thought.

She still loved Raoul, but there relationship had begun to diminish in its stability. He didn't trust her to be herself, and she did not trust him period. Things just changed, and she didn't know if they could change back.

"Here, show me your hand," Erik said sitting in front of her. She obediently gave her hand to him, and noticed he had changed. _Maybe it had been best for him to do that_, she thought blushing as he carefully unwrapped the throbbing mass.

"This is dreadful Christine, your hand will surely scar." He said unhappy looking at the tears and gashes created by the shattered glass.

"It doesn't matter, it's only a hand. Who cares what it looks like?" She said with a hint of venom in her voice, surely many of her 'lady friends' would notice it and comment. Why should she have to explain herself to them? The hand was still functional, and wasn't that what mattered most of all? It wasn't until he stopped moving that she looked up to his eyes, and noticed his sharply stunned look.

( ' ) '  
-

**_We never said  
our love  
was evergreen,  
or as unchanging  
as the sea..._ **

_She said looks did not matter, what kind of game of the head or heart is she playing?_ Erik thought. When he looked her in the eye, he saw she had not said it for him, she had said it subconsciously, lost in thought.

When she realized he was looking at her, she broke her trancelike look and blushed furiously, it was if, her heart had been speaking for her and now she comprehended what it had said on her behalf.

"Do you really think that?" He said gently massaging the broken skin into place, so that it would heal flat instead of lumpy, trying his best to make the damage as minute as possible.

"Well, of course, how vain would someone have to be?" She stammered pretending that the topic of conversation was not one of so much importance in their relationship.

He smiled warmly, and kept massaging the hand. Christine searched his eyes looking for something and he quickly dropped his head to study the hand carefully.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Once more to my  
welcoming arms,  
my love returns  
in splendor!** _

What was she doing? Why was she playing with a fire that would surely burn her! Erik was a killer, he was a maniac, and he surely would of killed Raoul that night if she had not prevented it.

However, something in the back of her mind was fighting that impression that was so ugly. Something kept reminding her that in the last year she had not heard a peep of him and he lived so close, reminded her that if he had wanted to he could of killed in the last year. He could of killed Raoul and made it look like a mere accident, and he had not. In fact, he had watched over her, taken care of her and made sure she was safe without making himself present.

Slowly she placed her hand on top of his after he stopped massaging and had finished bandaging it. She stop him because she had to stop pretending and so did he.

Ever so slightly Erik raised his head and met her eyes, she knew it was hard for him, he was trying to make things as formal and friendly as possible, but she was getting tired of it, they couldn't hide from their past much longer.

"Erik..." She said as he half laughed and shook his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

"Erik, why did you stay? Why didn't you just leave me? After all I did, all the hurt I caused?" She said taking her broken and cut up hand to his face.

He closed his eyes as her little hand met his cheek on the side that was unmasked. Subconsciously he pressed his face deeper into the cup of her palm and Christine had to bite her tongue from screaming out in pain.

"I stayed because you are my life, and though you didn't you hold mine in your hands, I will not leave or rest until you are finished here in this world and return to the arms of heaven were you belong. Even if you cannot give me yours, you own my heart and soul. You cannot give them back until you are ready." He said shakily.

She felt a sudden stream of hatred towards him. It was so much easier to blame Erik than blame herself. Crying out in frustration, she rose from the chair.

"Then why Erik!" She cried, "Why did you have to kill Bouquet?" She asked him. Releasing a sob, she turned away from him, her curls flinging too and fro.

Sighing, he rose and took her shoulders; he turned her face towards his own so she could see him in the eye. "I NEVER killed Bouquet. I was going to tell you, but you were too afraid to ask. By the time I realized I should have told you instead of waiting for you to come to me, you were off with your now husband."

"You… promise me, that you do not lie?" She asked him shakily.

"I promise you on my love for you, that I do not lie." He stated, still staring her directly in the eye.

"No… you do not. I can see it in your eyes." She said searching his. She was numb; to think that so many decisions had rested on the thought that he had been responsible of the murder of the old stagehand. "And Piangi?" she asked hesitantly.

"Does it really matter now Christine? What piece of mind does this earn you?" He asked her, with much trepidation.

"Please Erik, my whole life has been surrounded in lies. Lies that were all made to blind me to the truth, to preserve my innocence. What I have caused, without knowing… I just want you to trust me with the truth." She finished. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her shoulders and turned from her.

"I killed him. I will not lie and say I felt it a great tragedy. But I can only hope you believe when I say that I had not intended my name to be the last thing that escaped his lips." His whole back tensed with the words.

"You killed him to get to me, didn't you Erik?" She asked.

"Yes, and I would do it again. I would kill a thousand men to get to you Christine. Just to hear you whisper my name on your breath. The only reason I don't is that I know it confuses you even more, to care for a man who can murder so easily. You, so kind and gentle, would like to think your moral is black and white, that you do not tolerate evil. It is because you are so kind and gentle that you can. I never meant to compromise who you are, and so, I have tried to… curb my blood lust."

She didn't know what to say, or if she should say anything at this point. How could it really help if she told him the truth that she honestly did love him and he did own her heart and soul, but that she could not give up her duties as a mother and wife?

Or could she? She wasn't sure; she did not know what she wanted or what she should do. What was there to do? What did he want her to do? Would he accept her if she did leave Raoul?

For the first time in a long while, Christine wished someone would just make the decision for her. To just be young and naive like she was so many years ago, for then maybe everything would be all right. She cursed the day she met Erik and he made her realize life could be more than just someone's wife and mother, and yet how important those two jobs could be to one man.

He let her go, proving his love, which made it harder for her not to love him. So many things told her in her head that she was wrong, that he was a murderer that he was insane, that he was a monster not of the flesh, but of the soul, and at the same time an itch, a yearning had been in her ever since she left the tormented man. Something she didn't understand but she knew was love. She _did_ begin to resent Raoul for him coming and getting himself into the position where Erik would kill him. She wondered what her choice would have been then, would she of choose Erik anyways? Maybe she would have, and maybe she might have even stayed if he would of allowed her too. Maybe, but there was one thing she knew for sure, she loved that tormented soul and man. Now all she had to figure out is if she loved him more than Raoul and the lifestyle he could offer her.

Christine loved her daughter with all her heart and still loved Raoul for her own reasons. He was the father of Danielle, her love, and her life. Without Raoul, Danielle might have never been. Therefore, Raoul still held an important part of her, not to mention how much he loved their daughter himself. In fact, if he didn't, it would be so much of an easier decision.

If he didn't love Danielle with every fiber of his being like she, then she would have no problem telling Erik right now that she loved him completely, and they could run away together hand in hand, heart and soul, with Danielle between them. However, she couldn't take away the only thing left for Raoul to love, and have loved him back unconditionally. He spoiled and fawned over the child as though she were a goddess and she knew that once Danielle was old enough she would love him with the same devotion, something Christine could no longer do. So how could she take that away from him? How could she leave the one thing in her life that was stable, her daughter?

"It's dark," She ended up saying, hoping that he would not take her changing of the subject as her not feeling something.

"It is," he said finally dropping the hand he had ended up holding between his own and his face. He then took out his pocket watch and checked the time.

"It is 12:00 am it seems, late indeed. You should go to bed, you must be up early tomorrow so that you are home on time." He said clearing his throat and gesturing her to follow him over to the bed.

Quickly he pulled back the covers and motioned her to slip underneath them.

"Where are you to sleep?" She asked him softly and gazed up into his amber eyes.

"Me? I am to, well the divan will suit me just fine." He replied hastily.

"Why don't you sleep with me?" She said without shame.

He looked at her with confusion, anger and shame at her request, she could see him blush and about to object when she explained.

"I'm not suggesting anything other than for you to sleep with me, please Erik, just sleep with me. For tonight, I'm still a bit afraid and don't want to be left alone." She said, laying a little bit near the end.

"Alright," He managed to choke out and slipped off his shoes before sliding under the covers as well. He lay there rigid for a moment not knowing what to do. Christine waited for him to wrap his arms around her like she had wanted for so long. She had dreamt of this night since she fled those very arms, but the gesture never came.

Sighing she rolled over, grabbed them and placed one around her waist, if they were to do this they might as well do it properly, though she still felt that she was doing nothing wrong.

As long as they did not do anything immoral under God's standards, she felt no regret. This would most likely be there last night together and she wanted to go have him hold her as much as possible, for she realized she couldn't leave Raoul. As long as her daughter was apart of her and Raoul, she would not tear the little family apart.

She had grown up she realized, and unfortunately that meant she knew not to be selfish. She had to be strong and suffer for the sake of Danielle. That was one of her duties as a mother. To make sure that the needs of her daughter are met.

"Oh my angel, what are we to do?" she asked, snuggling against his body which spooned hers.

"I do not know my Christine." He cooed softly in her ear.He felt the brush of her curls against the exposed side of his face.

"Say it once more please." She asked him barely above a whisper.

"Say what?" he asked her curiously.

"Call me, 'your' Christine."

"Only if you call me 'your' Erik," he retorted.

"Alright, my Erik."

"Goodnight, my Christine."

She would leave her angel again, however this time not willingly.


	16. I Become Comfortably Numb

**Disclaimer –** I do not own the characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul, Meg, Philippe or any other that has been previously mentioned in any book/movie/musical rendition of Phantom of the opera. I do however own the rights to the characters: Danielle, Michelle, Charlotte, Audric, Bogart, and etc. I highly doubt you want to steal my characters though. They're not as interesting as the originals… yet.

**An-** I've been gone for awhile, I know. But now I have a planner, and I'll make time to write. BUSY BUSY GIRL I am. Lastly, no one has given me any insight as to whether I should break up the three books in this story, or keep them all as one. I think I'm just going to start taking pretty lines from songs that match titles and doing it that way now. I hate my chapter titles :P

**Review reviewers!**

Dechagnsluv – Thank you for your insightful review. I'm glad to know that you read my story, however, before you judge, and make claims against it, please read it in its entirety. I never once stated that Erik and Christine live happily ever after, or vise versa. Infact, most who had read this before, know that. Also, one last thing, I am an E/C person, and understand the need for R/C stories, but I thought that for someone who at the beginning hated Raoul with an all blinding fury, I've done well to show Christine is torn between the two. The first ten chapters of this story have been dedicated towards R/C, and only now have I begun to explore the depths of E/C. So, for you to be upset by this when I clearly state the story is both E/C, and R/C is something I cannot do anything about. Not to mention, I couldn't see how my story would grow if the entire thing was of Erik sitting in the background watching Raoul and Christine have an amazing life. That would be pointless, there would be no motivation for the characters. Lastly, I want to explain this isn't an attack against you, I'm just trying to respond to your points.

Mini Nicka – You'll just have to see what the consequences are ;)

Rikku Ree – I love the spin I added to Christine too. I've never read anyone going in depth at how naïve she is, and how she feels for Erik before she finds out he loves her. I didn't like not knowing what happens between the two opera's in the ALW version, so I added.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: I Become Comfortably numb **

_**Yet while he lives,  
he will haunt us  
till we're dead . . .** _

"This is where we have to part Christine." Erik said as they looked at her estate from the side of the road with Phantom. She held tightly to his reigns as she turned and faced her teacher one last time.

"Are you sure you do not want to come in for some tea?" She asked desperately, this couldn't be the end. She knew him too well, now that he had been found out she was willing to bet Danielle's inheritance that it wouldn't be soon before he was leaving her one last rose and venturing off into the unknown.

"Christine, you know... that I would be honored to, but..." he trailed off. He couldn't do this; he couldn't watch her look at him with such pleading eyes. Holding her in his arms last night he could smell the faint vanilla on her hair, the rise and fall of her breast against his arm, and although his other arm fell asleep in such an awkward position, he had been terrified to move. If he moved, she may unconsciously move away from him, and the warm weight of her body had drugged him.

"I know," She sighed and wrapped her arms around him and letting herself fall into a trance to the sound of the rhythm of his heart. _One last embrace, _she told herself, _one last touch of my human angel._

"We had this discussion, if any of the servants saw you they might talk and Raoul might find out, then there would be… unnecessary problems," She finished.

"Exactly," He said with a halfhearted smile.

"Well, you really should one day, come visit that is." Christine said searching for reasons not to leave; he could tell she did not want to leave the comfort of his embrace that they were in just yet.

"I do, frequently, but when you least expect it... Now go, Dani has not seen her mother all night and must be truly worried." He said with a bit of playful banter.

She just sighed and turned from him. What else was he to say? Stay Christine, you make my life complete? We could end the rest of our days in each other arms just like this? There weren't any words to describe the peace that he felt within her arms.

"You check up on her don't you?" she asked silently. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear his voice.

"You once asked me to check on her, and therefore I did, and always will... I would never put her in harm Christine." He started worried that she did not want him around her child now that she was in a sane state mind.

"I know Erik, you need not worry, I know that you would treat her as your own." She said and looked back to the estate.

Tears welled in his eyes, he did not know if she knew how much that simple statement had meant to him. He wanted to wipe away the tears forming if it weren't for the mask covering half his face.

"Your right, I should go..." She finally said and pulled finally her hand away from his.

He felt his heart break in two as the simple touch was broken and he was left watching from a distance once again. Against his judgment, and before he knew what he was doing he called out to her.

"Yes?" She replied to the desperation in his voice and turned to see him, hoping he would say anything to keep her there.

"I... stay careful." He finally said, _Stay careful?_ He asked himself, _where did that come from?_ He searched her eyes and found only understanding and defeat.

"I will," She smiled weakly then turned once more to take Phantom back to the stables and return to her life.

A life that did not involve mask specters.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Think of all the things  
we've shared and seen -  
don't think about the things,  
which might have been . . ._ **

_Stay careful? Thought Christine as she returned Phantom back to his stable. _

_He must have been trying to say something else,_ she realized.

_Maybe, just maybe he was trying to tell you he still loves you in his own way. That could have been why he was so flustered. It would only make sense since your still in love with him. Oh dear, what will you ever do? Raoul will be home within hours and want to know what you did while he was away,_ she thought.

It was then it hit Christine. What would she say? What would she tell the servants? Would they back her up or would Raoul find out within hours of his return his wife, a woman of position was out 'gallivanting' all night.

Her hand ached at the thought of what really did happen as she closed the stable door and began her tread towards the house. Erik did a fine job wrapping it up but what was she to tell her husband?

Quickly she raced to the front door and threw it open.

There stood Michelle and Charlotte on the stairs.

"Girls... I have..."

"Been out? Yes, we know. Charlotte? Will you go get Dani to see her mother?" Michelle said sweetly to the other girl who seemed a bit bewildered. Charlotte nodded quickly and left treading up the stairs in a swift fashion.

Christine watched Charlotte ascend and then looked back to the unworried Michelle standing in front of her.

"I see you hurt you hand Christine." Michelle said with the same authority and yet sweetness.

"It was an accident, why..." Christine started then trailed off, why wasn't Michelle worried? Why hadn't they sent for Raoul when she went missing for a night?

"Why what Christine?" Michelle asked.

"Nothing, I guess, where are the other servants?" Christine said as she unclasped her coat and walked into the den. Already tea had been prepared and was sitting by the hearth for her. Tired and grateful, Christine walked over to the armchair and sat down heavily beside the fire that was crackling. Slowly Michelle walked with her and began to pour her mistress some tea.

"I sent them away when they tried to return home, I told them, you were giving them one more night of leave." She said finishing and handing Christine the cup.

"Really?" Christine said looking at Michelle through the corner of her eye and sipping the warm tea.

"Oh yes, in fact, Charlotte was in a hurry herself to send for the Vicomte until I informed her of what you were doing." Michelle said with the same convicting but sly and sweet voice.

"Oh and what was it that I was doing?" Christine asked in wonderment, surely Michelle did not know that a ghost that died a year ago was in fact alive.

"Oh well, you were visiting with an old friend." Michelle said repeating the action of pouring tea once more. Christine stopped her by placing her hand on the hand holding the pot.

"How did you?"

"When you were unconscious in birth with Dani... he..." Michelle said as tears swelled in her eyes.

"Oh Michelle thank you..." Christine sighed and stood to hug her friend as well as servant.

"It was the truth, Charlotte and I wont say a word." Michelle said and laughed putting the pot down so that she could talk with Christine face to face.

"So how was it?" Michelle asked.

"It was amazing, more than that, tremendous, other worldly..."

"Well I can see why when he's a ghost who died a year ago."

"Michelle, do behave." Christine said laughing.

"Did you?" Michelle asked seriously.

"Pardon?" Christine said taken back.

"Did you behave yourself, I'm not trying to be rude or hurtful Madame, I just need to know as your friend and..."

"Here she is Dani, Mommy's home..." Charlotte said from the bottom of the stairs interrupting Michelle and Christine's very private conversation.

"Oh look who it is!" Christine said smiling, as Charlotte walked closer and transferred her beautiful daughter into her arms.

"I think you grew more beautiful overnight my dear Danielle..." She said looking down at the beautiful girl whose eyes were getting increasingly like her fathers everyday in color.

"Come Charlotte, let us leave Christine and her daughter." Michelle said and shooed herself and Charlotte out of the room.

"Michelle?" Christine called out as she sat down in the chair to cradle Danielle.

"Yes?" Michelle said turning back.

"Yes... the answer to your question is yes." She said never raising her gaze from the tiny bundle of wonder in front of her.

"I'm very glad to hear that Mme de Chagny." Michelle said and began to leave.

"That doesn't mean I didn't want to..." She whispered to her daughter who giggled and gurgled in her lap.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Track down this  
murderer -  
He must be found!_ **

"Dead?" Claude repeated stunned.

"They found him at the bottom of the Cliff mangled among the carriage." Audric told him. "Bogart, oh Bogart why did you have to get mixed up with the de Chagny's?"

"That scum took a father away from two children, two poor children who are now orphaned! What do you think will become of them? Aimee will surely be SOLD! Sell her body to men to survive and Damien will work his whole life trying to remedy that! He destroyed two children that bastard! If he only wasn't so cheap! He should pay." Claude said spiritedly.

Audric looked up, why wouldn't he say it spiritedly. He was right, and drunk. Two things, which were not good together. Claude was Bogart's younger brother, and though they had not worked together, they had been close. When Bogart had come up with the idea to hold the Vicomtess hostage, it had been Claude who told him he'd help him contain her somewhere else than the factory.

"Bogart tried that remember? He thought he had a simple plan, kidnap his precious wife and return her for a hefty ransom securing the lovely little children's future. Now, now we are left to pick up the pieces and tell such young ones there father is gone as well." Audric said.

"That is the problem with you old man, you don't have what it takes to avenge their fathers death, you would rather hide with your tail between your legs and take whatever the Vicomte gives you, well I am not like that! And neither was Bogart... if you cannot do what is right, I will!" Claude said storming out.

"CLAUDE!" Audric called after his son, but it was too late, the drunken man was already gone, and had a mission.


	17. Thoughts and Forshadowing

**AN - **Hey guys, a bit faster this time with the update. I'm really starting to peice together what I'm going to do to make this story better. It will now have three parts instead of two, I have love triangles up the kazoo! or yin-yang, which ever terminology you prefer.

**Tracy Davis**- thanks for your review! I love seeing new names.

**KieraLee**- Your signing off makes me think of Monty Python and their obsession with Llama's. hehe, yes... the grail...

**Rikku Ree**- Don't cry sweetie! but I can't promise anything, it's an E/C R/C, eventually M/R, D/A, D/D, A/A story! You totally have no idea what I'm talking about but you will one day... oh yes... eventually it will ALL make sense!

**Chapter Seventeen: Thoughts and Foreshadowing **

**_Share each day with me,  
each night,  
each morning . . ._ **

_He sat there in comfort, the arms of the chair wrapped around his naked form. The room was filled with darkness, but a soft light shone through the open window. It was hot, much hotter than usual for a Paris night, he watched as the wind caused the curtains to flutter. He sat, still and silent, barely breathing. He wished he could just close his eyes and everything would vanish, but he knew that there was no way he could just wish this situation away. _

_Raoul looked back at the bed to see a languid and sleeping form resting on top of it. Her body bare and enticing, tangled amongst the sheets. To many men she would have been a dream, but to him now she only served one purpose, to help him empty his stomach into a basin. He had promised himself he would not do this, that he would not ever treat Christine with such malice but he wasn't able to help himself, he had been drunk. She had been staring at him from across the room of the musky bar smiling. She had been gentle, and smelt of vanilla. Christine wore vanilla. She was a courtesan. A prostitute. A whore. _

_She had been soft, and gentle, but looking back, he knew now it was for the large purse he had carried into the tavern. He couldn't bring himself to go home just yet. How was he to face his wife? This was something he would never forgive if circumstances were reversed. First, there had been love, then anger and frustration, then hurt. The hurt was followed by fighting and then the birth of Danielle made him realized how much he still loved her even if they were just being civil. _

_That was what most likely made him do it, the civility. It had been tearing away at his insides knowing that their emotional responses were dying. He felt like Christine didn't need him anymore, he had just been a substitute for her father, her angel. Now she had grown up and had a baby of her own she could not be that child he had loved by the sea. She did not need that boy to save her scarf anymore. _

_He wanted to feel like he was needed, and in some basic way he had been just that with the prostitute, she needed his money to survive, to live another day in this lonely world. In other ways, he did it because he needed to know what Christine still felt. Did she still care enough to feel anger over the situation? Would she be upset with his infidelity? _

Well damn it!_ She should, _he thought. She should care and she should be mad and we could fight and argue all night like a real wife and husband. Then we could retire to bed wake up in the morning, feeling horrible and restart from there.

_He wanted to restart from there he just needed to know if Christine would. There was only one way to find out, he realized._

"NO!" Raoul woke up screaming, looking around for another body in the room he found none. Slowly he began to recount what had happened. Nothing had happened, the musky bar, the beautiful woman, they were all just a dream. A dream that was not real except for the emotions behind it.

He sat on the bed going over what was going on. He was tired, very tired, and worried about returning to Christine. He couldn't take such distance between them anymore, he loved her too much to allow their love for each other to slip away into the nothingness it had become, the only problem was he didn't know what to do. It had been different fighting for her love from the Phantom, all he had needed to do was support her, and show her all his devotion and love, now he was stuck with nothing. Nothing and yet, everything had come between them and he was outraged he had let it come to this.

What had he been thinking when the doctor told him not to tell her about the pregnancy? And what about the opera, why had he been so callous to take her when Carlotta preformed... Thoughts raced through his head as he prepared to make his journey back.

And what of last night, what would she have done if she knew that in his thoughts he had pondered finding service from a courtesan? For a mere second it popped into his beaten and broken thoughts till he thought of what his precious daughter would think.

Little Dani, little Danielle, he loved her more than words could describe. When Christine wasn't busy changing or feeding or treating their child with love and devotion, he would sneak in and watch her sleep. The way her chestnut locks bounced as her chest lifted and lowered to the rhythm of her breathing and small caring heart.

What were they to do if they couldn't work this out? They loved her more than life itself, she was perfection, a beautiful angel created out of love only to arrive to a cold and dismal earth. She didn't deserve this, anything but the life that she was going to have if Christine and he kept fighting.

_No!_ He realized, it HAD to work out, they had to get on their feet and try to make it work, it was what had to be done, no if's and's or but's...

**(' ) '  
- **

**_Let me be  
your freedom,  
let daylight  
dry -your tears. _**

Christine sat at her vanity table recounting her evening before and what it meant. When did life become so troubled and confusing? She remembered a time when the only man she loved was her father. Now she had a child to think about and a husband. She loved Raoul, or she had, she would always love him in some way. He was the father of her child, a man of great dignity and honor. He loved her as well with everything he had, and she felt guilty she could not say the same. Half her heart went to another man, a more tortured soul. A person she started to feel like she owed an explanation to, some sort of penance for her cruelty in handling their affair. Would there ever be words to describe what she felt for him after the last two years?

She was all of twenty-one now, almost twenty-two and she felt old. It was if she needed to escape, but from what? She had Raoul and Danielle, the perfect house, and the perfect family and she should be happy and grateful that she had all she did... Nevertheless, all she could think about was Erik, his small gestures of kindness, his brutal temper that never faded, and his ways of dealing with goodbyes. She was going to have to make a choice. Erik or Raoul, and she was going to have to make it soon, because it was time to cut the ties to one of them so that they could eventually heal, as well as she. Now all she had to do was figure out which flawed but loving man she loved more...

**(' ) '  
- **

**_They say that this youth  
has set my Lady's  
heart a-flame! _**

Claude looked at the estate in front of him looming ahead, it was perfection personified. It indeed resembled exactly what he thought it would look like, the Vicomte's happy home, happy wife, and their happy child. It made him sick that by birth people were allowed to share in this comfort of wealth and bought happiness, while others had to struggle till they were six feet under.

Taking another swig of liquor from his flask, he stumbled closer to the house from where he had been standing...

No longer would the rich invest this world with their leeching ways. They needed to be made an example of, to be shown that no longer would the poor endure such treatment, and he thought of no better way to start then with the Vicomtess de Chagny and their child.

He quickly found a large branch, tore a strip of his clothing off and wrapped it around the wood. Claude took one last sip of the alcohol in the small flask before pouring the rest on the stick and pulling out a match. The night erupted in a burst of flames lighting the man's way towards the house.

He thought one last time about what he was doing, and could not find anything to stop his actions any longer, if he were to be caught or die, it would not matter, he would be a martyr for all, and remembered so...

_Bogart, dear brother, I shall avenge your death, your children will suffer, but hold onto pride knowing that their uncle caused the same pain on the family that took their father from them._

Laughing, he threw the torch at the house only to hear glass shatter shortly after.


	18. The Final Decision

**AN - **I'm back much faster this time around with a new chapter. I think it's because I really want to get to the whole 'children now adults' phase. Some might know what I'm talking about some might not. I have had some awesome ideas for my A/A, A/D, D/D relationships. only time will tell.

**Tracy Davis - **I'm honored by your compliment, thank you very much for feeling that way.

**KeiraLee - **I'm still afraid of bunnies to this day from the beast of the glen. It's one of my favourite movies. Claude's a little freaky already? Oh honey, you don't know the half of it.

**Rikku Ree- **I'm glad I brought you some Raoul understandage, we all need a touch of that, don't you think? Don't you worry, you'll understand eventually who the other D and A's are. The other D and A was mentioned, but I still haven't gotten to Adrienne yet.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: The Finale Decision **

**_Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me  
savor each sensation_ **

Erik looked at the violin case sitting in the corner of his small cabin. No longer a dark black, the case had been covered in dust that had collected over the year. He sighed wearily. What was to happen now? He did not know how to feel about the previous night nor the parting he left Christine with today.  
_  
What is wrong with you?_ He thought bitterly to himself. _For a year now you have wanted to kiss her, hold her, and tell her how much you loved her, at the very least when you depart. Why can you not bring yourself to tell her the truth? She knows it in her heart, as much as you know she feels the same way._ He picked up his tea and brought it to his lips. He could still see the shock on her face when she saw him, still smell the crisp scent of citrus on her hair, still felt her stir beside him in her sleep as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear while she slumbered. He had never been able to do anything of that sort, but last night he couldn't help himself, as she lay there innocent and sweet.

_God!_ He thought violently_, if there is one out there, why do you mock me so!_

He slammed the small teacup down on the table and watched the scolding tea spill everywhere from his carelessness. The hot beverage was almost soothing to his hand as he tried to tame the frustration that was boiling inside him. For almost a year now he had been quiet, calm and above all, he had controlled his temper. Nothing was too much to ask for Christine, if she asked him to go the end of the earth for her, he would. So, if controlling the rage that caused him to kill without flinching was all she had to do, so she was safe from his presence, he managed to do so quite well.

He looked back at the violin sitting there, tempting him. He felt his fingers twitch and he opened and closed his fist in revulsion. The itch and tingle that filled his hands didn't feel different whether he was yearning to touch a bow, or whether he desired to end a life. And there it was, waiting and calling to him, knowing he was itching to play something to expel all the energy he had left over from Christine's visit. That was what she was, a luminous orb of beautiful innocent energy, like light. Whenever she was around him, she charged his weary soul with the electricity he needed, and he was able to go on, she made him survive.

Slowly he walked over to the forgotten instrument that was calling out to his hands, to his soul and mind. His hands burned with desire as he opened the case carefully. It had been almost a year since he had done anything musically, other than sing to himself when he was lonesome. Sometimes he caught himself composing in the depths of his mind, but when he went to play the piece resonating within, he had no instrument to release the daemon.

But now, now things were different, he could play, he could play all he wanted, for Christine knew he was alive, and would not come looking for the haunting melodies to fill her void. She would know it was only her Erik up in the forest thinking of her and only her, as he played melodies from the opera's she starred in or they practiced together. He would do this, if only to remember her voice, her sweet airy uplifting aria's she would perform. He would do it so he could remember her smile when she knew he was pleased, and the innocent modesty she possessed, never truly knowing how wonderful she was.

Taking the bow in his hand and picking up the instrument in the other, he was just about to strum a chord when he heard a frightful smash of glass in the distance.

**_( ' ) '  
-_ **

**_In all your fantasies,  
you always knew  
that man and mystery . . ._ **

**_. . . were both in you . . ._ **

Christine lay in bed thinking of how only last night she had been in his arms. They were still strong and powerful, like his voice, and they had had a way of making her feel like the most important person on the face of the earth just by how they held her, how they made her feel so safe.

How _he_ made her feel safe.

There had to be something she could do to stop her thoughts from drifting to Erik. Raoul, she knew, Raoul was suppose to be home today, oddly he took longer than expected. She was surprised that she did not notice this fact until now, as though she could completely care less. She didn't though, did she? She loved Raoul... but no longer was she in love with him. Oh yes at one point she had, she had loved him up until the day she could no longer recognize him, the days that had followed Danielle's birth.

The day she found out in her heart that Erik was alive.

**_It was when you realized that Erik was alive; that you knew you loved him more. Face it; you're not as selfless and sweet as they all make you out to be. You were using Raoul; he's second best and in your heart, always will be._ **

_That's so unfair! Raoul is amazing; he's sweet and tender, caring and wonderful…_

**_Yes but face it, those things don't matter to you as much as your dark Erik. You've tried, you've pretended, and you're a very good actress Christine, but that's all it is, an act. You could fool everyone but yourself, though that didn't stop you from trying. Aren't you tired of pretending? Hasn't it gone on long enough? You're not doing Raoul any favors by staying and playing the doting wife. He deserves more._ **

_Don't you mean I deserve more?_

**_That too, but be honest with yourself. He may think that you are a gift from god, but he will learn with time that there are much more graceful, beautiful, sweet and talented women out there. Ones more suited to be the Vicomtess; you were suited to be an actress. A diva. An angel._ **

_But won't I get jealous at the thought of Raoul with another?_

**_Sure you will, but that is they way that the earth turns, who would you rather be in the arms of another, Erik, or Raoul?_ **

That was it then that was all she needed to know. She may be Raoul's wife, but she was Erik's angel, his savoir, and most of all, his will. Sure, at first it was flattering to think that he could not live without her, then it was terrifying, which is why she was so sure she ran to Raoul. She knew that he could take care of himself, and he could take care of her. Raoul was such a safe choice. He loved her, but he didn't expect her to be able to heal all past evils and transgressions like Erik had. It took having Danielle for Christine to know she could take on what Erik needed her to. She could be his lover, his wife and support him, but most of all, she learned that his desire for her to heal him was not just something he needed of her, but something she needed within herself. With Raoul she begun to feel useless, she thought she had wanted to be taken care of, without worrying about taking care of anyone else. She had not realized how wrong she had been.

Tomorrow when Raoul got home they would have a long discussion. A discussion about their marriage, and their soon to be divorce. For some reason, although she knew the dire consequences of divorce, it put her at ease. Scandal would be whispered among the social society no less, but it already had with just marrying him.

They would all cry "whore!" "Wanton!" "Filthy pauper!" but she had heard it all before, it couldn't get worse. They had already begun to call Dani a bastard and vile girl, and she was merely an infant! It would be hard, but she knew that it would be for the best. Raoul would be heartbroken, but no one would put the blame on him, they would see him as the victim. She would even stretch the truth a little and recount all her infidelities against him with her paramour. None were true, but it would speed up the process. She would not live a lie any longer; she would spend the rest of her days with Erik. Surely there would be problems with the welfare of their daughter, but she never planned on taking her completely away from him.

It was then she heard a fierce crash downstairs that shocked her terribly and the screams of Charlotte.


	19. Death of a Nightingale

**AN - **Short Chapter, but I already have uploaded the next two so it's all about timing. When this part of the book is finished, I'm going to have a response page, to respond to whatever anyone has to say, it could be short, it could be long, but I promise it will be accompanied with the first chapter in book two.

**dechangsluv -** Thank you for responding to my response. I'm quite pleased that we actually had a debate without resorting to name calling, its pretty hard to watch on this site sometimes.

**Aisalynn**- Thanks for the marshmellow! You deserve a cookie for figuring out the other D and A. Thank you for reviewing and your opinion. Every writer loves new reviews.

to all my other wonderful reviewers, thank you for continuing to read my story!

**Chapter Nineteen: The Death of a Nightingale **

**_Past the point  
of no return -  
no going back now:_ **

Claude smiled at the damaged he has caused and picked up another branch he could throw in the house. He found an adequate one and once again tore a strip of clothing off his poor rags. Remembering his other flask of alcohol in his sock, he bent down and grabbed it. This time he aimed for the Vicomtess' room. He was successful for he heard the terrified screams of the rich wanton upstairs, or so he liked to call her. He watched as the flames rose higher in a most consuming rate. By this time, he was really getting into it, remembering his promises to his dead brother.

"This is for Damien! This is for Aimee! AND THIS IS FOR BOGART!" He said throwing another chunk of wood in. The sound of glass shattering could not drowned out the screams of an infant girl crying.

Suddenly, as though he woke from a nightmare, Claude's face paled. He had forgotten about the child being involved. Yes, it was true he had known of the de Chagny heir, but now he also recalled why he was doing this. He was doing this for the children, because children were innocent, they should never be exploited too early to the realities of life. Now he was trying to murder one of those babes's he so passionately was fighting for.

"_Uncle Claude, watch me run!" Damien cried excitedly to his uncle who had shown up days ago. They were all standing outside the winery in the sun, watching it fall against the horizon. It had been a rainy day, and they had spent the majority of it cooped up in the soon to be sold building. Bogart and he had decided it be best to keep the plans as quiet as possible. Therefore, his niece and nephew believed their uncle was just visiting._

"_Uncle Claude, watch, I can run too! See." Aimee cried, circling Damien. Damien laughed and reached out to his younger sister and picked her up. She squealed in delight as her older brother spun with her atop his shoulder._

"_Damien, put your sister down, you are not big enough to be carrying her around like that." Bogart yelled over the cries of the three year old._

"_Aww… Papa, you don't mean that. You just don't think I'm old enough!" the six year old pouted placing his sister down._

"_Whoa!" she moaned and then flopped down in a puddle from dizziness._

"_Damien, look what you did, go clean your sister up." Bogart said half-heartedly. Damien smiled a toothy grin before turning to his sister._

"_Come Aimee, let's clean you up."_ _Giggling, she reached up and placed her tiny hand within her brothers and he lifted her from the mud, hand in hand, they walked into the winery._

"_You really shouldn't be so hard on them Bogart, they are merely children." Claude told his brother quietly, as they sipped from a shared flask._

"_When you have children, I will allow you to question how I raise mine, but never interfere with mine again." Bogart half snarled at his brother._

"_Brother," Claude chuckled, "Do not take out your anxiety on me, do not fear. The plan with the de Chagny woman will work, I feel it."_

_Bogart sighed. "I wish I could think of something else just as drastic to open the Vicomte's eyes. I hate him. I do not care if he suffers. Still, I do not like dragging women and children into a man's fight. Yet, this is the way it must be. The Vicomte does not care about my children and what they will eat tomorrow or the next day. He's willing to throw them out in the street, two beautiful children. It will be only a few years before Aimee became a whore, a few more before she'd have no teeth left from the abuse. That was how momma was when Audric had no money."_

"_Father did the best he could, you know that." Claude told his brother. True, they both resented the old man… he had not been a stable provider, and the majority of his life a drunk. However, he had been the one to help Bogart get the job managing the winery in the first place. It had been open for a few years, before Damien and Aimee ever knew the shame of being homeless._

"_Bogart, if anything happens, I promise you, I will protect the children."_

Dropping his flask he began to stumble/run away from the monstrous creation that he was the artist of. He didn't need to look back to see how the de Chagny estate lit up the night sky, he could feel it's heat already.

( ' ) '  
-

_**The bridge  
is crossed, so stand  
and watch it burn . . .** _

Erik ran as fast as he could from his home towards the cries that rang from the estate a kilometre below. His heart ached as he heard more glass crunch and Danielle begin her wails as well.

When he finally could see the home, he felt like throwing up. He couldn't remember a time when he was more helpless or paralyzed from fear.

He looked left and saw a man staggering away and quickly had to make a choice, to catch the bastard capable of this heinous crime, or try to save Christine and Danielle. He stood in front of the house, rooted to the spot he stood. The harder he willed his limbs to move the number they felt. Bile burned up his throat, the burn it caused near his heart making him gasp raggedly.

He watched as Michelle came running frantically towards him.

"Monsieur! Monsieur! It happened all so sudden, Mme is missing and I cannot find Charlotte. The stairs are on fire, ON FIRE MONSIEUR! I cannot climb them, and the baby, she wont stop her cries!" She was sobbing almost falling over as she cried to him. Slowly he propped her up. He couldn't think, he didn't have time, so he let his body guide his actions as he ran towards the flaming home.

( ' ) '  
-

_**You have brought me  
to that moment  
where words run dry,  
to that moment  
where speech  
disappears  
into silence,  
silence. .** _

Christine had heard the glass break below in the house and lay still in her bed in fear. Was someone trying to break into her home? What was she to do? If it were a robber she was sure that Erik had heard the deafening crash and would be to her rescue any moment, all she had to do was lay still...

Lay still and wait...

After what felt like hours later another explosion of glass rang in the air, this time to close for comfort.

She didn't even realize she had been screaming until she took a sharp intake of breath and ripped the duvet off her body.

Smoke was filling the room and Christine was confused. Where was it coming from? What was going on? Where was Erik?

_What are you going to do?_ the child inside her was screaming. _Curl up in the corner and wait for Erik to save you, to protect you, to take care of you, _the scared voice kept telling her.

Before she could listen and succumb to the small cry, she heard a more important one. The screams of Danielle woke her from her selfish confusion. Her motherly instincts began to function once more, and she remembered what was going on. The room was on fire, all the rooms were probably at this point, and if anyone was going to save her, it had to be herself. It was that she had to save Dani right now. She had to get herself and her daughter out of this death trap.

"Hold on Danielle, Maman's coming!" Christine yelled towards the child's nursery and began to swiftly walk out of her room.

Once she was out of her room, she heard the front door burst open. Stopping in the hall, she tried to see who it was through the thick smoke. It was then, that out of nowhere, a large wooden beam fell on her, crushing her under its extreme weight.


	20. The Birth of a new life

**AN - **This is the last chapter of the first book, I'm going to admit, that after this, I'm going to take a break from the story for the length of a week, it shouldn't be longer. Remember, the next chapter wont actually be a chapter, but a way to talk to me, please review and the next page is the 'opening page' to book two and repsonses to any questions people have. No need to fret though, when I post this book two page I'll post a new chapter for those who just want to read my story.

and in a brazen move, I'll post the responses to reviews at the bottom of the page.

**Chapter Twenty: The Birth of a new life **

_**What raging fire  
shall flood the soul?** _

_**When will the flames,  
at last, consume  
us . . .? **_

Once he opened the door, he heard a loud crash from upstairs. The extreme heat danced along his face, causing him to wait a few seconds before plunging inside.

"Christine!" Erik screamed loudly as he entered the front door and saw that the staircase was already completely ablaze. Everything was, the drawing room, the hall to the kitchen, even Raoul's office that was to the right of him. He was sure it would be no different when he climbed the stairs to see the second floor.

"Christine!" he screamed again as he braced himself for the painful climb. The only response he got was Danielle's scared piercing cries. He shielded his face against the burning heat, coughing as the thick smoke filled his lungs. What hair he had was singeing at the ends as he raced up the stairs.

He went as fast as he could, making sure to check every stair before he put his weight on it, it was taking too long for his liking! Distantly he tried to remember the layout of the mansion, everytime he had ever been in it, he had entered from Christine's room. When he reached the top of the stairs he looked down the hall towards Danielle's then back to Christine's.

It was there he found her, pinned under a large beam right outside the doorframe. The beam was still burning on the end farthest away from her, but it still was a gruesome sight. Erik felt his heart stop and ran towards her crushed form.

"Christine?" he spoke loud enough for her to hear, but as gentle as he could be. When he reached her, she seemed unconscious. Her left leg was twisted in a brutal angle, but no blood was spilt on the hardwood floor. He shook her shoulders that were covered in soot. She began to cough and gasp for air, blood trickled down the side of her mouth. Erik gasped and cradled her face, smearing the trail of blood into her skin with the black powder on his hands. She blinked unfocusedly a few times, frantically searching the area.

"Erik... Erik I can't see you." She whispered, her voice dripping with agony. "I… can't feel anything really," she said. He cried out in fury and rose from her side. His tears trickled half way down his face before evaporating in the heat as he clawed with his hands at the large block of wood until his fingers bled.

"Erik it's no use, leave me be..." She softly told him.

"No, NO!" He said, refusing to believe he could not save her. He always saved her; it was his job on this earth. "You're in shock Christine, once I get this off of you and we make it to the cabin I can mend your broken bones." He dropped to his knees, angrily he tried to push, pull, lift, just do anything to the massive chunk of wood, but it did not budge. Christine was trapped. He thought fast on what he could do. If he could find some other large piece of wood, he could use it as a lever to lift the piece crushing her frail form.

"Erik," she coughed again, another small river of blood flowing from her precious mouth.

"No Christine I wont leave you, I wont leave you to burn to death, if I can't save you, I won't leave your side!" he told her, brushing curls back from her face. Her eyes were still clouded, those perfect blue orbs hazed and blood shot.

"Erik please, leave me, I am dying, I wouldn't even make it if you did save me." She said calmly, looking where his voice was resonating. Sweat was clinging to her brow, smearing the black soot into pale gray. Even now, in this position, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen or heard. Pain racked his entire being, time was of the essence, and they were running out of it.

"Don't talk like that!" He yelled at her and continued pushed her curls back out of her face almost roughly. "Don't talk like that, you're not going to die." He said trying to smile to prove that everything was fine.

"You need to leave me here and save Dani." Christine spoke softly.

Dani, he had forgotten that he needed to save her too, but this was too much, he couldn't leave Christine to die here like this.

"Christine..." Erik sobbed stroking the hair out of her face more and cupping her cheek.

She smiled up at him and touched his cheek. "Your so good Erik, so kind..."

"What are you talking about Christine? I am none of those things, I am evil..."

"No..." she shook her head.

"Yes I am..." he said trying to convince her.

"No you are not... you are wonderful and caring, Erik you are the most beautiful and unique person I know and you have so much to offer this world Erik, still so much to offer." She spoke sweetly to him. Her teeth were stained pink as she smiled up to him.

"If I am so unique, it is only because you make me." He said holding her free hand.

"That is a lie and you know it..." She told him.

"No it's not! Surely you must know everything I do is for you..."

"Oh Erik, I know... I know... but I am not the reason why you are you. You and Raoul both put so much faith in me. You both do not understand that whatever you are it is because it is who you are, not because I make you so. I am just a unoriginal girl, who happened to stumble upon someone who could make anyone a star and a boy who could save anyone's day."

"Do not talk to me of that boy…" Erik growled, _where is he, as his wife lay dying in my arms?_

"Oh Erik… you were always hard on Raoul. Don't be unkind, you know that I loved you both. Do you really need to hear me say it? Do you really want me to tell you whom I loved more? It's all relative now… in the end, it was you who was with me." She rasped to him, beginning to loose her calm control.

"I know who you loved more, and you must know that in my heart it has been only you my child, only you... you are my angel of music..." he said kissing her forehead, smearing her skin more. More chunks of wood fell down the hall from them, the flames licking the edge of Christine's door. The fire was spreading faster, soon it would be upon them, only minutes later down to Danielle's bedroom.

"You must go Erik, you must save my baby. She will need you to be her angel now." Christine said looking up at her Angel.

"I can't Christine, I can't be anyone's angel but yours."

"No you must Erik, promise me, promise me you will be her angel. Promise that you will take care of her for me, and let her know about me. Promise me Erik, do not deny me this..." She said.

Erik hesitated, how could he take care of a child? He was old enough to have grandchildren by now. Surely she meant for him to save her then return her to her father. But he knew, he knew and Christine knew that if Erik were ever to return her to Raoul, that the boy would have him killed in his fury. He would assume it was Erik who murdered the most precious being on this earth. It just proved yet again how much she did love him, how much she needed him to survive.

"I know you love her, I know you already are her guardian, I saw you one night, I thought it was a dream, so I dismissed it. But you were singing to her Erik, you were singing to her like you used to sing to me. Promise me Erik, promise me you will continue to love and take care of her when I am gone."

Erik looked around him, she was right, and if he didn't leave soon and take Danielle with him they wouldn't make it. Nevertheless he couldn't leave Christine, not like this, not now, not after everything.

"I... I promise.." he managed to choke out.

Christine smiled peacefully in response. She no longer seemed like an innocent child he realized. It was if she were older than him trying to comfort and convince him everything was too be all right.

He only wish it were.

"You will make a wonderful father Erik, I know it, I know it in my heart." She said smiling.

He was caught by surprise, father? angel? he remembered a conversation like this so many years ago it seemed. how did it finish? friend or phantom? How could he interrupt her now?

"I always loved you Erik, I always will... Thank you for loving me Erik. It was the most beautiful gift I have ever received other than Danielle, she was Raoul's gift to me. Your love was your gift from you. If you didn't love me, I never would have been anything, you made me someone, someone to believe in. Therefore I am honoured and proud to be the one loved by you. Remember that, remember what I have said... remember... everything..." she whispered.

She squeezed his hand gently, her eyes finally clearing. Finally they focused on his face and hers lit up in happiness.

"I can finally see you, my angel... I can see your beautiful face." She said, touching his face.

It was too much for his ears to hear. He could have died a thousand deaths but he never suspected this. He never suspected he would outlive his life source. His conscience, will and angel of music. As he leaned in to kiss her their tears mingled in a dance they never got to share. The kiss was a soft salty way of finally saying good-bye, and when Erik's eyes lifted from her face her beautiful sea blue eyes that once before held so much life were vacant. He felt her blood on his lips, and he had to look away. Was this the feeling one gets when being stabbed through the heart? what was lodged in his throat, a piece of it broken? It beated rapidly and he wanted it to stop, to have the ache ceased, for nothing could compare to the misery and pain he was in now.

He didn't have to make the choice to leave her now, she had made it for him.

Before he could realize it, another blow shook his entire body. He had not been wearing his mask, the side of the face that she had touched had been his disfigured gargoylish hell. He hadn't even fought with her over its gruesomeness before she died, and know he knew she had perished seeing him naked again since the time underneath the opera.

Numbly he lifted himself up and treaded to Danielle's room. The flames danced around the edges of the room, getting closer to the bassinet and hovering in a protective circle around her, but never touched the infant.

Looking at his burnt and bloody hands he shook his fears of dropping her and carefully lifted her out of her cradle. Her whimpers began to soften as her purple face began to turn to its original shade. She knew his presence, his voice.

"Hush petite, hush Dani..." He said holding her close, the warmth of her little body filling his heart with a new purpose.

Carefully he wrapped her and held her even closer as he descended the collapsing stairs.

He walked straight out the front door to find Michelle comforting Charlotte. Michelle saw him exit, and tried to block Charlotte's view. Quickly he darted the other way, into the night so that they could not find him. If he were to carry out Christine's promise, he needed to make sure that no one knew he was alive... or Danielle.

Into the night he was embraced once more, the brisk air-cooling his face and burnt hands. He didn't look back as he walked through the forest.

He would never look back again.

* * *

**Lindseys Trachea****, AngeDeMusique, ****Rikku Ree**- I'm sorry if I let you down my loves, but it was the way it had to be in my own little world.

**soccernat11**- Isn't it the saddest thing in the world when you finally make a decision, and your time is up? not...  
as literally as Christine of course...

**LotRseer3350**- thank you for your compliments, every girl loves to hear good things gushes

**To all my readers - **I must say, I understand that it's cruel to write out Christine, but I've always believed that a tragic  
ending is more sweet then a happy one. That is, also, if your tragic ending has purpose. Mine does, as you will find in book two, Erik  
needed to raise Danielle, it was good for his soul, and later on in book three when things get REALLY messy. Oh, you will completely have  
forgotten about Christine.


	21. Book II : Return to the Night

Book two: Return to the Night.

( ' ) '  
-

* * *

- Notes -  
by Chicketieboo

Notes, they are your words  
The chords are your complicated sentences  
I listen  
You play  
You speak to me in different tonques  
I listen and understand  
But I am merely a shadow  
I could say the same words  
and learn the same sentences  
over and over  
But nothing like you  
You re-invent the language  
Music.  
You could speak it  
beofre you ever knew what else to say.

* * *

I was going to respond to peoples, but I just wasn't 'feeling' the questions. The majority of them are answered through the story anyways, right?


	22. Angels Will Fall

**Chapter Twenty-One: Angels will fall **

_**I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne . . .  
to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music . . .  
music . . . **_

Erik looked at the child who was staring at him from his arms while they continued to walk through the night. Why wasn't she crying at the sight of his face? He had always worn the mask around her, how could she stare at him with such innocent eyes like her mother and not judge his grotesque exterior? She let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes in a gesture of sleep.

He watched her fall into slumber and knew right away he could no longer stay in the little cabin he had grown to love.

What was he to do with a child? He had no experience in raising one, let alone raising one by himself. His only model of a child/parent relationship had not been very successful in her efforts to raise him, leaving him to wonder if he should bring her back to her father. It would be the right thing to do. Danielle was not his child, she was legally Raoul's, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that the ignorant child of a man loved her.

He shook the thought from his head. If he returned Dani to Raoul there would be hell to pay, and most likely he would be killed for the whole incident. Raoul was stupid enough to think that he would kill the only thing he ever loved. No, he had to keep Christine's promise. Killers and thieves would not return a child after killing the wife, it would point right to him.

Where was he to go now? He did not know, he still owned the house in Rouen, was he to return to that? Surely it was no longer suitable for living in. Not to mention people would take about the man who did not leave the safety of his home and the beautiful child they saw playing there. There he would be tortured by the memory of his mother and the village still had elders who remembered the devil child who lived in it. If he returned they would tease and taunt Dani, who knows? They could stone her like they did his loving dog, Sasha. No, that would raise to many questions within the small town, and someone would find him out, most likely the Vicomte would look find out as well. She looked too much like her mother.

No there was only one place he could return to, one place that always embraced him with forlorn open arms. He would once again be acquainted with the night.

**(' ) '  
- **

**_Christine ...  
Christine ..._ **

Raoul sat in the middle of the lawn staring at the one thing he had left of them. It was a photograph of his beloved and their daughter. Christine was gazing down at Danielle, her smile brilliant for the camera to capture. It was gone, his whole life, just had been torn away from him. He had sobbed his last sob; shed his tears till his eyes ran dry, and now all he could feel was void. She had taken a piece of him with her in death, she had taken his soul, and heart to the grave. He thought about how he had heard the news, and the world spun once more around him as he relived the moment he arrived home.

_Christine will be mine once more, I thought as the carriage bumped along the road. _

_We will no longer dance around each other on tip toes, afraid to say what we are thinking. I will not be angry if she mentions the name Erik, for he is dead, and cannot be to blame to the marriage I helped allow to fall apart. _

_What would her Phantom think? Surely he would be appalled at the hell we had created for each other. He would be disappointed in me. Here he gave her to me to take care of, finally freeing us to love without fault, and we broke our fragile love all by ourselves. Did he know it was bound to happen? Had that been his plan all along? No, it couldn't possibly be, he could of not possibly known that we were still children, children who would make mistakes. _

_Yet now we have a child of our own, we need to think of her, and not our selfish needs. We need to find solace and lay the secrets of our hearts to rest.  
I distantly heard faint screams from my carriage and perked my ears. Who would be screaming in the middle of the night like this? Something must be wrong, but what? And then I thought of my home, my darling child and the wife I needed to love once more. _

_I knocked on the wall separating the driver and I in signal for him to pick up speed and get me home as fast as the horse's legs would drag us. The screams got louder, filling my soul and shouts of men made me wonder what on earth could possibly be the reason for these terrible noises. For the rest of the trip I had my head stuck outside the window of the carriage, with my hair whipping in the brisk night. _

_As we rounded the bend in the road before seeing my home, I could here the crackle of fire as the light shot up from behind the trees that surrounded the estate. I could not comprehend what was going on. _

_When we did finally get within sight of the home, I found a gasping cry escaped my lips at the sight of my whole world and life going up in flames. Where was Christine? Where was Danielle? Please let them be all right I said aloud without realizing, if they are all right none of this means anything, nothing at all. _

_I almost fell out of the carriage, stumbling along trying to find any of the servants. None were about, none that I could see... Many men were trying to put the fire out with water, but it was to no avail, I knew nothing was going to stop those flames from dancing and flickering higher. Where would the bloody servants be? I thought desperately, SOMEONE has to know what's going on, someone has to know where Dani and Christine are. _

_Then I remembered how Christine would send the servants away when I went on trips. She was always so kind as to let them go and have a night or two of complete freedom. The only two who cared enough to stay and help her around the large mansion were Charlotte and Michelle. _

_I had to find them; I had to find someone to direct me to Christine so I could tell her I was relieved she was fine. _

_I followed the sobs and womanly cries around to the side of the house, as the men kept tying to save the ruins, not even recognizing, me disheveled and frantic. It was then that I saw Michelle calming Charlotte down, or trying to at least. _

_"It's alright, they got aw..." _

_"Vicomte!" Charlotte said as her eyes bulged at the sight of me. Michelle turned to look at me, surprised by my presence. I could see the tear stained faces of the two women, looking at me as though they had seen the devil. _

_"What is going on? Where is my wife?" I asked looking at them, back and forth. _

_Charlotte began to sob once more as they racked her body and she convulsed into Michelle's arms. Michelle looked at me with eyes that seemed lost for words. I would not believe it, could not... _

_"Where is Christine, where is Danielle?" I asked once more. _

_"Danielle was..." _

_"Danielle wasn't saved." Michelle said cutting in, looking at Charlotte wearily. _

_Charlotte looked shocked and shook her head in despair, she could not believe the words herself it seemed. _

_"No! No that's not true!" Charlotte cried trying to pull herself from Michelle's arms. _

_"We tried to save her sir, we tried our best." Michelle said holding on to Charlotte. _

_"You lie Michelle," I heard Charlotte sob dejectedly, she allowed the older girl to hold her. The poor girl, she felt responsible, she felt she had failed in trying to save my daughter. She couldn't take the idea of my wife and daughter being… _

_I myself couldn't understand truly the impact of these words. I tried to make myself believe that it was all a joke, a farce preformed by the servants. _

_As Charlotte continued to stare at Michelle in awe, Michelle looked wearily at her then back to me. _

_"Neither did Mme de Chagny." _

_It was then my heart broke. It was if it shattered into a thousand shards of glass by the mere weight of just a few words. To think my whole world lay within those two sentences, to have realized that everything I had cherished was gone, I walked away from the girls into the night. I wanted to be embraced by darkness, to swirl madly out of control. I realized this is what Christine must of felt like when her father died... and why the Phantom's influence on such a weak soul would be so powerful still. _

**(' ) '  
- **

_**Speech  
disappears  
into silence,  
silence. .** _

Charlotte watched the broken man who she knew as the Vicomte walk away from them.

"Why did you lie!" Charlotte hissed in anger and concern, pushing away Michelle's crushing arms. Her insides felt like lead, her heart constricted violently within her chest. For the first time she hated Michelle, she hated her for always being the favorite, for always being the one believed. If she were such a wonderful friend and servant then why would she lie to the master? Why would she let him believe that his innocent babe had perished?

"_Michelle!" Charlotte gasped as a black shadow darted out of the house and into the darkness. _

"_Michelle, I saw Dani in his arms! We must stop him." She said starting to pick up the pace and follow him. _

"_Leave him, Charlotte." Michelle said in a warning tone. It stopped Charlotte in her tracks, and she wondered why the response of her friend would be to let this man go free. Quickly she turned back around to the man and began to follow, she heard Michelle run after her and wrap her arms around her._

"_NO! I said," Michelle struggled._

"_Your telling me to let the man who killed our Mistress go free with her child!" charlotte screeched, as she tried to free herself from the other girls arms._

"_ENOUGH! He is not Christine's murder… he is her lover." Michelle said feeling Charlotte go slack._

"_Madame had a paramour?" Charlotte gasped. This was too much for her ears, she had looked up to her noble lady._

"_No Char, not a paramour, a lover. That was Madame's other love. From what she told me they had no relations, but she loved him deeply. He was from her past." Michelle explained._

"_What was he doing here? What difference does it make that he was her love? How does that excuse him from kidnapping our little mistress and how can you believe he didn't murder our Madame?" _

"_Come now Charlotte, where do you think Madame was the night she went missing? He took care of her. Something happened, some other evil was after her and then he protected her from it. I had seen the look on his face when Madame fell with Dani still in her womb, he loved her with every nuance of his being. He nursed her when I went to the doctor, and he looked over Dani while she was unconscious. He was a good man, and I do not doubt that Madame asked him to take the child. She probably wanted him to save the baby. It must have been dire for him to leave her there inside, he wouldn't have left her side unless there was no other way." Michelle explained._

"_But… Raoul… what will he say?" She asked Michelle, tears falling down her face at the tragic tale._

"_He will say nothing, we will not tell him of what transpired here tonight."_

"_I cannot accept that…I cannot lie to him… let him think… oh Dani… poor child," Charlotte got out before completely breaking down._

_"It's alright, they got aw..."_

"_Vicomte!"_

"Trust in my good judgment my dear Charlotte, it is better to let sleeping dogs lie, than bring up horrible past memories. This is how our Mme would of wanted it."

"But..." Charlotte tried to intercept.

"Trust me, it is safer for everyone if no one knows the truth but us and the angels." Michelle said, watching Raoul walk into the night, just like Erik had what seemed like only moments earlier.


	23. Everlasting Salvation

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Everlasting salvation. **

**_Pitiful creature  
of darkness . . .  
What kind of life  
have you known . . .?_ **

"Mademoiselle de Chagny, will you stop that infernal racket!" Erik moaned loudly and quickly shuffled into the room that had been once Christine's only years earlier.

The piercing screams ensued as Erik wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. It was cold down here; maybe that was why she was awake.

"There, there little angel," He said picking her up and holding her close. Slowly her cries were replaced by whimpers and ragged breath.

"I suppose I should stop calling you that, shouldn't I Dani." He said thoughtfully.

"Your really not a de Chagny any longer. Yes... yes that's my girl, breath." He said rocking her back and forth and remembering in his haste he had once more forgotten his mask. He had been doing that a lot lately, however he knew that it was fatigue that was tearing away at his memory. He would of never before of made such a careless mistake, not before Dani arrived.

Quickly he made a mental note to not do it again.

"Child, how can you look at me with such innocent eyes and not be horrified by my grotesquely disturbing visage?" He asked her as though she could respond.

The small girl sighed and closed her eyes in response. He pulled her little body close and held her head against his shoulder. It had been a week since the accident and he felt as though he had had no time to mourn the loss of his one true love. For a man who had never felt the need to sleep for half a century he was in dire need of it in the last week. No wonder Christine slept so sound beside him that one night she had probably needed it.

Tears stung in his eyes, Christine. His dear darling love, how he would have died valiantly beside her if he had not granted her last request. He continued to rock Danielle, her warmth making his heart brim over with love for her. She was such a treasure to have been given to him willingly. He chuckled at the thought of how his life had been turned upside down.

He knew nothing of children, never mind babies. He remembered there was a time when he was one however his childhood was not one he would ever put another through. Yes, things were quite different in his routine these days, and he had never been more tired. All the infant did was cry, eat, soil herself, and throw up. Smiling at the thought he knew though that that was not all she did. She brought new meaning to his life; his efforts were always rewarded with wonderful blue eyes, toothless smiles, and soft sighs. She had a wonderful baby scent that he had never smelt. She was soft, and warm, everything he was not.

And she was all his, she was not taken, or hurt, or forced on him, she had been a gift. A token of a love unspoken, she was symbolic for him in a way for Christine to prove in the end she did love and trust him. Enough to take care of her daughter, to raise her properly.

But he was not her father.

He would never be.

**( ' ) '  
- **

**_Things have changed, Raoul._ **

"QUAESUMUS, Domine, pro tua pietate miserere animae famulae tuae N., et a contagiis mortalitatis exutam, in aeternae salvationis partem restitue. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen."

"Amen," Raoul said and placed a single rose on her coffin then made the sign of the cross. He then walked over to Danielle's and did the same heart wrenching action.

He went back to stand before Christine's coffin and slowly he began to feel tears fall, he backed away but he felt his knees begin to give as the casket of his beloved was lowered into the dismal hole awaiting her, he allowed himself to collapse down next to the fresh gravestone. Taking a piece of dirt he dropped it down, and forced himself up. He still had to respect Danielle's grave.

When he completed these actions that numbed him, he went back to watching the casket fall, and for a brief moment he let thoughts of falling in with her, every part of his body ached with grief and agony that he could not describe, let alone wonder when it would leave. He almost felt physically ill at the sight of her drifting father and farther away.

He knew she was gone, but this felt like the final blow, To have her underground, where she couldn't be seen, where she would be forgotten like all the lost souls around her.

He had fondly though of her as his princess and now he wished she had been, like a fairy tale snow white so he could build her a glass casket and watch her sleep for eternity.

In a perfect world he would have been able to do such an absurd thing.

In a perfect world she would not have died.

God he wanted to fall down that dark and dismal hole in the ground that his angel didn't belong in.

She had never been his angel though, not truly. She had always been Erik's. He suddenly felt jealous of the man once more, being dead with her. He thought of how they were reunited, and would spend eternity together, happily forever with HIS child by their side. He thought of how beautiful Erik might be in heaven, his voice truly given to him by God. Then he realized Erik would have never been granted the glories of heaven, so he knew that she would not be with him.

Unfortunately, it did not hinder his distress at all. All he could think about is how much she must have wanted him, how much in her last days she was truly Erik's not his lovely darling Christine. The only angel he could claim as his was Danielle. The only one who would of ever loved him unconditionally and him in return followed in her angelic mother's lead, as the divine angel's were ironically lowered to the ground.

He let his tears continue to fall as he watched the coffin lower deeper and deeper.

"Raoul?" He heard a soft caring voice ask.

Who did that voice belong to again? He couldn't remember for he was trying to preserve Christine's in the safely locked in his memory, knowing eventually he would loose it, and forget the exact tones that her lovely mouth could produce.

"Raoul, it's time to leave, the service is over." He heard again, and looked over to the woman standing beside him. Why it was Meg, Megan Giry dressed fully in black like her mother. Such an innocent, Christine and she had so much in common.

He watched as she looked at him with sad eyes, he could see she had been crying as well.

"It's raining." She said trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

Was it? He thought, was it really? That would explain why she had been holding and umbrella. He looked up to the heavens that cried for Danielle and his love. Were the angels really weeping like the mortals on earth? Or were they weeping in happiness that their most precious treasure had finally returned to them after twenty-two years, and that she had brought a gem of her own. Envy tore through him at the thought they didn't let her stay longer. Could divine creatures really be that selfish?

He looked back at the fresh tombstones made of marble, only the best for his daughter and wife. He wanted the names to be preserved forever.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Come now Raoul, Philippe is waiting for you." The young Giry said underneath her umbrella.

Raoul looked towards the carriage that was still left. He could see his brother's legs inside since the door had been left open for him. He did not want to leave yet, like he would be leaving Christine behind.

"Do you have a means to find your way home Mlle?" He asked.

She looked at him with such sad and caring eyes, he looked like a mess. His blonde hair plastered to his forehead, his clothes sopping wet, his eyes red with recent tears.

"I don't monsieur however, I am sure that walking will suffice." She said.

"Don't be absurd Meg, We will give you a ride home." He said taking her arm and directing her to his carriage. The truth was he didn't want to be alone with his brother; he just didn't want to be alone.

* * *

TRANSLATION OF PRAYER WE beseech Thee, O Lord, according to Thy loving-kindness, have mercy upon the soul of Thy handmaiden N., and now that she is set free from the defilements of this mortal flesh, restore her to her heritage of everlasting salvation. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.


	24. Fall from Grace

**AN - **Sorry my dears I'm am terribly sick. Hence, my lack of updateage. It might be like that for the next little while. More sleep, less... insomnia.

**soccernat11** - You just wait, Raoul's very integral to my story now. When I first started writing it three years ago I wanted to write him out, in the end I realized he was someone I could use, for me, the story always ends when Christine decides to return to Erik, because after all. "Happily ever after." Yet the thing is, nothing is happily ever after, and I dont wanna know how bad E/C is compared to R/C. Because, in the end, there was only R/C, so the only alternative would be E/C, making it hopefully better. Is this making any sense?

**LotRseer3350** -that is apart of the story, him finding the crazy killer, it helps with the crazy relationships tocome.

**Rikku Ree** - suppose right, if only Raoul wasn't still desperately inlove with Christine.

Computerfreak101- thanks for the review! I agree, the most challenging thing to do is to write a nice Raoul when you don't like him. I hope that I've gotten even the die hard Raoul haters feeling his pain, even a touch. By doing just that, I have begun to understand Raoul, I wanted people to realize he has his faults but their equal to his good qualities.

**I Despise Raoul-** wow, if I kept you that long, I hope you read/review again! glad to have you as a reader!

**inkpems-** thank you.

**Clever Lass-** I hope I don't dissapoint you, even if it were true... hopefully I'll still engage you with other characters.

**All of my other Faithful Readers** - thank you for your time.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Fall from Grace. **

_**Once again  
she is his . . . **_

_**Once again  
she returns. . . **_

"I assume that Giry woman spent the night here again." Philippe stated from behind him. Raoul just sat there in front of the fire, never lifting his gaze from the glass of brandy in his hand. The liquor had warmed his whole body better than any fire could, but it had numbed his senses just enough that his mind could whisper the name _Christine_ without him breaking into sobs. It had been three months since he last saw his wife and daughter, and already they're memory was beginning to fade around the edges. He clung to it desperately, trying to keep it close to his heart, but with time, all things fade. _What am I doing?_ He thought._ I shouldn't be staying here in the way of Philippe. He and his incessant nagging. _It was true however, that he had to stay with Philippe for the time being. His home was nothing but ruins, and he wasn't ready to move on and create a new one just yet without his child and love.

"I'm not going to be so rude to send her late at night every time she visits." He said turning the glass in his hand. The study was his brothers but he had been spending more time in it than any other room in the house. It was, after all, where the majority of the liquor was kept. There was a fireplace, a comfortable chaise and divan to spend his time, and enough liquor to drowned in.

"It's not good for our name Raoul, people will talk." Philippe sighed.

"Let them talk." Raoul huffed.

"You have to move on my brother, this is undignified behavior."

"Have I ever really met up to your standards when it comes to dignity Philippe?" Raoul spat bitterly. It was then he finally decided to lift his eyes from the glass, his sight was drawn to the outside. The sun was shining brightly for a change. It didn't move him like he had wished it would. No sun, rain, or eternal darkness could move him from the comfort of the chair he sat in, next to that fire, with the brandy in his hand. Yet, it didn't stop him from staring. He stared out that window trying to ignore Philippe until his brother came into his line of vision.

"It's also unhealthy." Philippe said dropping his airy façade.

Raoul looked back at his brandy, it was empty now. _Amazing how I mechanically drink now,_ he thought, _I seriously cannot remember ever taken the last final sip of my poison._

Slowly he took out his pocket watched and glanced at the time; it was only seven in the morning. _My! I must have started at seven last night, and had not realized how the time slipped by. Time is so capricious, some days, it goes by so fast I can barely keep track. Some days the merest seconds are slower than any hour I can remember. _Meg was still sleeping, but she would be up within the hour. It was the same every time she was there. She would come down the stairs, dressed meticulously her cheeks flushed in small embarrassment at the situation. She would then try to dismiss herself cordially, only to have Raoul claim nonsense. He would escort her back to the opera, never mind her home. Most likely they would be late, as always, and her mother would lecture about the etiquette of a dancer, and how she was not one. He knew how much her mother's words always hurt her so he might as well get her up now in the mere chance they would be on time.

He looked to Philippe who was sitting in front of him. It was the first time he had looked at his brother really in a month, since the funeral. He had aged; the de Chagny blonde was slipping from his hair leaving it grey and old. Stern wrinkles surrounded his eyes and mouth far too quickly for his time. He was looking at Raoul with glassy eyes in desperation, like he was waiting. Waiting for Raoul to say something, anything to prove he would be ok. Philippe had never been never a good actor, one of the many things he needed to be when a Comte. Raoul felt a sting of pity for the old man; he had always loved Philippe, just as Philippe had always loved Raoul. It was obvious as he just sat there, waiting for a sign, waiting for some sort of absolution, something to quell his own fears. Something Raoul could not give him.

"It's time I take Megan home." Raoul said rising from his seat and leaving a distraught and lonely man behind him.

_Oh how we have so much in common._

**( ' ) '  
- **

**_Meg Giry. Are you a dancer?  
Then come and practice._ **

Megan sat directly across from Raoul as they rode into Paris. Her blonde tresses were falling around her. She was not a rich woman but she had begun to take a small pride in her wardrobe. Christine had been the instigator of this infatuation with silk and lace. She was thrifty, modest, but pretty. It was a curse and a blessing that she rarely wore anything but ballet garb, because it meant she had a few dresses that were quite expensive, and at the same time, she was never seen with some of her favourites because she had had no place to wear them.

That was until she started to see the Vicomte de Chagny ever Thursday evening. There was talk, like there always was, that she and him were courting. However the extent of their relationship was a few kind words and presence. She looked at him with her green eyes to see that he was still staring out the window in the carriage. Sighing silently, she looked down to her gloved hands in her lap.

She began to wonder why they were spending time together. Was it because they both lost the dearest thing to them, he his wife, she her best friend? She wondered if it was to give the Vicomte a break from his liquor intake. It was obvious he had fallen out of society rapidly and was rarely talk of unless in scandal. Some had the audacity to say that she and he planned for Christine to be murdered so they could have each other. Her heart burned in agony at the hate in those comments. She had always been an aloof and naive person, but it was by choice, not by stupidity. She was not a dumb girl; she ignored the phantom of the opera, Christine's first love. She had known about their affair long before even Christine did. Angel of music? He most certainly was, playing his masterpieces on that majestic organ way down below the opera house so the sound would resonate up to her ears as she explored the catacombs underneath the opera house. She had heard her mother and him speak on more than one occasion, once even in her mother's apartment when she had been visiting overnight there.

Now both the famous lovers were dead leaving behind victims, none more devastated than the man in front of her. She remembered his smile, the way his blue eyes shone in the presence of Christine. Their wedding day, she was a bit drunk but she did remember how they stunned all of society by lovingly dancing freely in front of everyone. She remembered the happier times and wished with all her might that she could bring them back. Back for Raoul because seeing him like this pained her. She had heard through gossip that the family had not been so happy in the last few days of Christine's life. But gossip was a hard source of news to believe. Some of the ballet rats could say that the Emperors heir himself had ran away with a commoner and other such fairytales with such conviction that the Emperor himself might send a party to look for his son. Truthfully she did not know what Christine's last days where like, she hadn't seen her since the one visit she had with her after Danielle's birth. Raoul had been away on business so she could not see how they reacted and therefore doubted the tale.

_Doubt as I do I could not muster enough courage to ask the one person I know to have that knowledge. _

_Raoul. _

**( ' ) '  
- **

_**665, ladies and gentlemen: a paper-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals.** _

_**This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order. **_

"Stop crying." Erik commanded the baby squealing in his arms. For a split second, he thought it had worked. She stopped her squealing and stared at him with tearful eyes, as she took a deep breath. Her perfect face made him smile when he thought himself successful, before it contorted into a painful mess as she began to howl again.

_Well it was worth a shot_, he thought as she continued to cry. Raising a child was so difficult. He had never thought it would be such a task.

"We are out of milk, I have to go get some tonight, I most certainly cannot leave now while number one, you are awake to scream, and number two it's light out. This is not to mention you were fed, merely half an hour ago. You shouldn't be hungry yet. You will merely have to wait, alright?" He said trying to reason with her as though she were an adult.

She continued to scream, adding a squirm to her pleas.  
"Oh for the love of... here, Danielle? Dani?" He said trying to show her the item he procured with his hand. It was the first thing he could grab while she fussed in his arms. Of course, much to his dismay, it was the infamous music box. Sighing, he debated whether he should throw it against the wall or use it to try and quell her sobs. He realized he might as well carry through with the plan, throwing it would only make him feel better for a second, while it would scare her, and it probably wouldn't stop her from crying.

"Watch..." He said hushing her and put the three-month-old girl down on the divan. For a moment he watched as she rolled onto her side and tried to do more. _She is always moving, _he thought briefly to himself, as she continued to babble and bawl. He wound up the musical box and placed it on the table in front of the divan, then he sat down and propped her in his lap.

"Masquerade, paper face on parade, hide your face till the world will never find you..." he sang softly behind the brown hair of the girl in front of him.

"aaaah..." She gurgled and took a jagged breath. She then tried to reach for the music box but was unsuccessful. The irritation that itched inside his chest and fingers fell like the tide as soon as her piercing cries subsided. _I wonder if all parent feel the urge to physically silence their children when they cannot comprehend what the little brat wants._ Did he feel guilty at the thought of doing something irrational to Danielle? No, in fact, Erik was quite pleased with himself that he hadn't. It was a small, but successful step for him, and if he didn't recognize his own growth he would never be able to move on further.

"Wama?" She laughed looking at him with her blue eyes so very much like Christine.

"No, no touch." He said taking her little hands in his so she couldn't desperately reach for it. He didn't want her touching it. It was not hers to touch. It was her mothers, and would always be for Christine.

Sighing she leaned back into him and watched as the monkey softly played the symbols. He rested his face gently against the top of her head. She grabbed one of his long fingers and held onto it tightly as she watched the brightly dressed monkey softy bang the chimes.

_Interesting,_ he thought, _that cry was somewhat different from her usual. She's starting to change them for her needs.  
_  
He smiled happily proud of his keen sense of sound once more. _Even if I am not her father, maybe having her around won't be so hard after all. _


	25. Life's Love Lost

**AN -** My head cold has moved to my chest from my head. Lovely. Not to mention, I am a terrible asthmatic... so... I have to work and see the doctor tomorrow and I don't know if I'll have time to update. This is a new chappie for you's.

**Chapter Twenty-four: Life's Love Lost **

_**Lead me, save me  
from my solitude . . .** _

"You spent the night at the de Chagny's again didn't you?" Mme Giry asked her daughter as the ballerina's filed out of the rehearsal room, all while Meg was changing out of her ballet slippers

A few girls giggled as they left, some whispering back and forth between each other. Meg stopped to watch them with a piercing glare, all while remembering a time when she too, laughed gaily and free. Sudden flashes of Christine and herself eavesdropping flooded her mind, and she had to shake them away before replying.

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Meg said waiting for her mother's opinion. She didn't look up; she didn't want to see the weathered strict face looking down on her.

"You know I have never been one to judge my girl, however under these circumstances..."

"Under what circumstances?" asked Meg haughtily as she laced her boots.

"Do not start with me Megan." Her mother warned.

Finishing the laces, she finally looked up into her mother's eyes. Courage seeped into her in defiance against everyone's opinion. She would protect Raoul, if it were the last thing she ever did. "No mother please enlighten me to what the circumstances are. You have never seemed not to mind so far in the last six months of Christine's death. Why now do you find it time to condemn me like everyone else for my relationship with Raoul? Listening to the Ballet rats?"

"Megan Giry, you will stop this incorrigible behavior at once." Her mother's voice boomed.

Meg stopped frightened still by that voice. Sighing her proud shoulders slacked and she looked her mother in the eye.

"You know that I do not listen to those little minx's gossip, they are terrible when it comes to such real issues as life." Mme Giry said and began to walk around Meg. "No I never worried because I knew the extent of your relationship, therefore your association with each other was not a nuisance to me... other than of course, your late arrivals at rehearsal." Mme Giry said circling her daughter like a vulture. Meg stood still, not moving her head as her mother left her peripheral vision, when her mother had finished circling her, she asked the question she knew her mother was dying for her to speak.

"And what has changed?" Meg said nervously and cleared her throat.

"The depth of your feelings." Mme Giry finally said in front of her, a sigh escaping her mouth and her shoulders sagging at the thought.

"That is absurd," Meg countered, half laughing. But the sound wasn't pleasant, it sounded stressed and bitter as it escaped her lips. She bent down to pick up her slippers so she didn't have to look her mother in the eye.

"You cannot fool your Maman, you may deny yourself these thoughts, but I can see it in your eyes." Mme Giry said softly, dropping her harsh exterior that most knew her by; she circled once more before looking her in the face.

"You are pained."

"If I am pained it is only because it does to see him so, any good decent friend would feel the same." Megan said and slumped to the floor to sit. She lifted one leg and let the other stretch out gracefully in front of her.

"Your right, any good decent friend would be pained to see someone create their own demise... A friend would escort him to the funeral, stay awhile make sure that he is going to live, and then leave only to check up on him once and awhile if they are not too close.

"But Maman, that is what I..."

"You spend the night there every Thursday! Every Thursday my dear, and lately even more time. He needs company yes. But, do you think it helps?"

Meg's eyes welled with tears as she lowered her head, her mother was wrong, she was not in love with Raoul, she just felt pity for him.

"... At least he's not drinking." She said trying to hide her sadness.

"Yes, indeed, but he makes up for it when you are not around, or so I have heard from reputable people. I just worry for you Meg, I do not want you hurt."

"It's not me who's hurting Maman, it is him, he cannot get over her memory. He doesn't eat or sleep anymore. Philippe has all but disowned him; he has no friends because he was a bit of an outcast before he married Christine, and more so now. Not to mention our situation is not helping. It's horrible all the things people say. We are not doing anything wrong! Yet we are being condemned. He has nothing now, no one anymore." She said finally letting the tears slip at the thought of him in the study pouring another drink, slowly slipping into madness.

"No one Meg, no one but you. However that is a hard title itself my child. The only one someone can go to. Trust in me, for a long while I carried that title myself, weeping as you do and wanting only to reach out and help his lost soul. Like all women who love those tortured beings we continue to serve them and love them throughout all they do. We struggle with what we feel and watch behind a window as they slowly die... die for a love that will never be returned... and you die a bit with them." She said descending to the floor beside her daughter and took her hands in her.

"You doubt they know they are doing to you, what is happening to them..." She added

"How can you help someone who does not want to be helped?" She asked sadly looking at her daughter.

"Trust in me, I know..."

**( ' ) '  
- **

**_There will never be a day  
when I don't think of you…_ **

The underground house was quiet. For the first time in weeks, Erik had managed to put Danielle down without a fuss and wasn't completely exhausted.

Things were starting to get into a nice routine for them both, Danielle had always trusted him, but it was obvious that she was unused to the abrupt change. He was rather glad that he had already been apart of her life when she was born, if it had not been that way, she would not have so easily responded to his voice. He had thought his hypnotic tones would calm her like they had everyone else he had ever used them on. It was strangely, to no avail, only causing Erik to think he had caused this by starting to early on her. She was already immune to his voice, familiar with it enough that it didn't do half of what it could do to other people.

His success was short lived however, when he remembered tonight he had to meet his man on the outside for supplies. Sighing he took off his jacket that had a few small vomit and snot stains on it, preferring to go in just his shirtsleeves. Throwing his cloak on, he went to the front door of his home and opened it carefully. Closing it, he threw the jacket in the sieve he kept in the underground lake to clean his close. He quickly stalked towards the rue scribe entrance to his home, thinking of the girl he had promised to raise.

_Oh Christine, how did you ever come to the decision that I could handle this?_

But even before he finished the thought he regretted it. He knew that Christine would not have found Danielle such a burden. Was that how he felt about her? No, burden was too strong a word. She was foreign, she was a new challenge, and he wasn't used to being challenged. Not that he didn't like the rewards, a sweet smile once and awhile, the soft scent of her hair. Some of his favorite times were when he took off his jacket, sat on the divan rolled up his shirtsleeves and held her.

That was all, he just… held her.

Held her and talked to her, told her how beautiful she is, told her about his day, talked about music and art, and she would listen. She wouldn't understand a word of what he said, but her little eyes would keep contact with his, and she would smile and giggle, listening to his soothing voice, as he would prattle on.

As he reached the gate, he covered the cloak around himself better and felt the wall for the mechanism that would swing the gate open slightly. Jacque wasn't there yet, irritating Erik all the more.

_He has a simple job, how hard can it be to show up on time?_

Ten minutes later, Jacque turned the corner of the bridge, and walked down to where Erik was standing, rather, pacing along the stream. His lanky arms swinging back and forth, Jacque smiled a toothy grin at his employer.

"Sorry sir, I forgo…" But before the young man could finish his sentence, Erik had him pinned up against the bridge by the throat.

"SIR" Jacque choked, his smile fading.

"Listen to me now, and hear my words young one. My time is a very valuable commodity. People have paid dearly for me to offer them a fraction of what you made me wait tonight. Therefore, I find it extremely unpleasing when I pay you for yours, and you waste mine in the process. If it is to happen again, I will be doing all your other employers a great favor by making sure you never are late for them… ever." Erik said releasing Jacque.

"Yes sir, yes… Jesus sir, I'm sorry." Jacque said rubbing his throat.

He wasn't as afraid of Erik as he should be. Yes, he was afraid, and no doubt believed that Erik would kill him if he ever showed up late again, but it wasn't enough, and that irritated the masked man even more.

"Here's what ye' asked for." Jacque said, removing a bag from his shoulder. Within Erik found at least a week's worth of wine, cheese, bread, butter and milk. The milk he'd tie to the sieve and keep bottled and cool in the freezing water underneath. The rest was for him, so he may sustain his life as well.

"And what of the Vicomte? Did you get the information I told you too? Or are you incompetent in that field as well?" Erik smoothly asked him. Jacque scowled, wondering why he put up with his eccentric employer.

"Yes sir, I got the information ye' be' wanting. Turns out the young de Chagny is being scorned by society. Some rumor him to be sleepin' with some ballerina tart from the opera Garnier." Jacque smiled smugly, thinking he had done well; it wasn't until Erik looked at him loathingly and growled that he knew he had done something wrong. He backed away as his boss advanced on him.

"If I wanted to know rumor I would have had tea with any ballerina or socialite in Paris, I asked you to tell me the Vicomte's condition since his wife past!" Erik spat at the boy.

Jacque fell against the soft grass as Erik stood above him. "I'm sorry sir! I'm sorry! I thought the first bit might interest ya. If that be the case, then I know from a good friend of mine that the Vicomte is taken ta drinkin' himself to death. A friend o' mine works up at the de Chagny mansion and says that he barely leaves his brothers study." Jacque replied.

Hearing this Erik straightened; he no longer loomed over the boy, but helped him to his feet.

"I have no idea why anyone would be a friend to you Jacques. You're French born and raised and yet you've spent too much time amongst the English paupers. They're linguistics are starting to affect you. I can barely make out what you're trying to tell me half the time. But, you have been helpful Jacque, and so I won't penalize you tonight by taking away some of your funds for being late. We both know it will never happen again anyways, will it Jacque?" Erik asked the boy.

"No sir… never." Jacque replied.

"Good… I will see you a week from tonight then." Erik said a touch more merrily, waiting for the boy to scamper off before he entered the tunnel to venture back.

_So the Vicomte is so crushed he was trying to kill himself… interesting._

_A part of me doesn't blame him._

( ' ) '  
-

**_Monsieur believe me,  
there is no way of turning the tide!_ **

_Raoul sat there, watching his young daughter play in the sea._ "_Do you think it was right to bring her here? She'll never leave when the time comes." He asked Christine._

"_Oh Raoul, let her be. She's having a wonderful time. We'll just have to promise to return when the sun begins to set early and the sea turns to ice." She said from beside him, reading one of her books. He looked briefly away from his daughter to look at Christine. She was beautiful; her curls piled neatly on top of her head, her dress a high collar. She may have dressed like a lady, but he still remembered when she was a girl, a girl who still had that beautiful smile she wore now. A girl whose eyes twinkled with innocence and mischief._

_He looked back towards the ocean and found no trace of Danielle. Frantically, he looked right and left, for her, hoping she had not gone into the water. But it was then he knew, he knew without reason she was at the bottom of the ocean that stretched in front of him._

"_NO!" He roared, noticing, but not caring that Christine was no longer by his side. Danielle's laughter still filled his ears; whispers of help filled his mind. He didn't take off his jacket or boots as he ran into the water. He couldn't even feel its warmth or wetness as he swam farther out from shore._ _He looked down, underneath him, searching for the pale face. He found it almost instantly, like she had wanted him too, wanted him to see her looking so beautiful, so peaceful and asleep. He dove down to her, but he couldn't reach. Something hit his eye in the water and he had to close it for the briefest moments. She was then lost to him._

"_NO!" He screamed in the water, searching frantically for his daughter. He saw Christine; she was looking as peaceful as Danielle. He tried to reach her but he knew he had to come up for air. He did so reluctantly, and dove in once more. Little flashes of flesh and brown hair were all he could catch in his peripheral vision. He looked up to where the sea met the sky and saw ice start to mold over the water._ _Knowing that he wouldn't do his wife and daughter any good dead, he swam to the top, climbing upon a chunk of ice before it molded to create a vast plain._

This makes no sense!_ His mind screamed_, think about it, the shores of Brittany do not turn to ice like this, you're remembering this from the ice fishing trip you took with your brother years ago.

"_CHRISTINE!" He screamed, although in his mind he knew that things weren't adding up, the pain in his heart made him carry on, he couldn't loose his daughter, and he couldn't loose his wife._

"_Danielle!" he called rubbing away snow that had fallen on top. _

_There they were, underneath the ice, they're eyes wide in shock, they're fists pounding against it. Angrily he stomped and jumped on the frozen water, trying to break through. He was successful and smashed into the freezing water. This time it was freezing, he could feel it's touch against his skin like a thousand tiny knives._ _He tread the water, searching for Christine and Danielle, when he saw an arm reach out to him. As he went to grab it, it grabbed his leg and pulled him under._ _He began to sink further, and further down._ _His panic began to be placed by tranquility; it was only a matter of time now. He could hear their laughter. He could hear his name being called._

"FOR GOD SAKES RAOUL!" Meg screamed shaking his shoulders.

He opened his eyes, he tried to breath but all he could do was cough. Turning to his side, he began to cough and sputter, realizing he had fallen asleep mid drink. His nose being plugged by the touch of a cold he couldn't breathe, he had almost killed himself. He looked at Meg wearily, as the tears streamed down her face. She was sitting there in the dress that she had just worn to the house last night. Her hair was still in the braid she usually adorned when she was rehearsing. Hadn't she been there the night before? He wasn't expecting her.

"You should have let me be." Was all he said to her.

( ' ) '  
-

_**He kills without a thought  
He murders all that's good.** _

Erik could hear Danielle's screams before he entered his home. Racing to her bedroom, he found her sitting up in her cradle, purple faced, holding her arms out to the man as he entered the room. He felt his heart fall, he had let the little angel down. She had wanted him and he had not been there for her. Picking her up he stroked her back and took her towards the dining area. There, he would prepare her a bottle and lull her to sleep.

_I should have killed that insolent boy, Jacque. I promise Danielle, I will never leave you alone again._


	26. Innocence lost

**AN - **I'm sorry to have been away guys, but my uncle recently died and we had to go out of town to see him before he went. This is why it'll take a little bit before the next chapter, and I'm not going to answer anyone's specific reviews.

**Chapter twenty-five – Innocence lost **

**_Wandering child . . .  
So lost . . .  
So helpless . . ._ **

Paris was a beautiful city during the day. Café's and Bistro's lined the streets, carriages clattered back and forth, and the sun shone down on the French. Things were always busy in the streets, when women shopped at boutiques and men walked the streets during their lunch-break.

The night was different.

Some areas of Paris slumbered during the darkness. They quieted, closed down, and waited for the next morning. Some areas, stayed alive, taking on a more sinister life. Like the village of Monmarte, somewhere sinister during the day to begin with, and were, indeed, no place for children.

Under the circumstances, however, some children are stuck in situations or places that they don't deserve. In a little apartment, just outside of Paris in the suburbs, were two such children.

Their father was dead, their uncle was dead, or was as good as just that. And now, after only eight months with their grandfather, they were alone.

There he sat, the old man, still in the position he had fallen asleep in. His long hair fell around his droopy face, which lay against his shoulder, his arms rested limp at his sides. There sat an empty bottle of wine on the table. The room lay deathly quiet, other than the rain tapping against the window.

In the corner of the room, a small girl still slept on a pile of hay. Her golden hair, which had been a trait of her mother, fell over her eyes and the rags she wore barely kept her warm, she shivered on the bed small bed. But she had had a roof over her head. She had had a sanctuary.

In front of the man, a boy with jet-black hair stared numbly at their sole provider. He had not liked the old man, ever since his father and uncle died, his grandfather had taken it out on him. He bared a striking resemblance to his father, and when his grandfather got drunk he had been cuffed upside the head many times, yelled at and called by his fathers name. It was obvious the old drunken fool would drink too much than think the young child his own lost son. He would take the beatings, grateful his sister did not bear a resemblance to any of the old man's children, so that she was spared the grief. Often, he had taken care of his sister when the drunk blacked out.

No, the young boy had not liked him, but he knew that without him, things were going to get worse.

Much worse.

**( ' ) '  
- **

**_And now my wish comes true -  
you have truly made my night!_ **

"Oh god above, where are you, please, please, please..." Erik said as he searched the large lair looking for the baby Danielle. Ever since she had mastered the ability to crawl she was always on the move, and as he had gone to get a clean cloth to use as a diaper, she had snuck away.

It had been raining when they had reached the surface of the street. He had wrapped her cloak more securely around her, but she kept shrugging it open, rubbing her eyes with her little fists and shaking her curly head no.

Jacque had stood there, not surprised this time by the young girl. He had never been late since the phantom's threats, and even then, the next time Erik had come to him, he had kept his promise to never leave Danielle alone again.

"_Bloody Christ!" Jacques exclaimed at the sight of Danielle. "It's a baby!" _

_"Yes, very good Jacques." Erik replied gravely. "Now, can you tell me what that pretty thing over there that light's the night is?" Erik asked pointing to a lantern. _

_Jacques gave a small smirk realizing he had indeed pointed out the very obvious. _

"_I know I'm a bit slow sir, but you have to understand my surprise that you's gots a babe with you." Jacque said with a sheepish grin. He had been trying to talk more eloquently these days with his boss, though he still was sometimes rough around the edges. _

"_I understand the predicament Jacque, I just find it intriguing how you manage to point out the obvious." Erik sighed. _

"_May I hold her?" Jacques asked, holding out his arms in a gesture to show himself harmless. Erik hesitated a moment before realizing he could kill Jacques almost instantaneously without ever harming the baby. It was then he was all right with placing the child within the arms of the boy. _

"_She's a beaut', I had always wondered why you fancied so much milk and cloths. If you had asked for baby clothes, I would have figured it out, but all you asked for was fabric." Jacques said cradling the sleeping baby girl in his arms. Erik watched with a touch of anxiety at the boy holding his Danielle. _

"_Yes, well I happen to be a sufficient tailor." Erik replied a little antsy. His hands clasped and unclasped. He was trying to subdue the desire to hold Danielle once more. Though he never showed it, it was obvious that Erik was terrified that Jacques was going to run off with the precious child that he held. _

"_Alright, you've looked at her long enough, none of her features are going to miraculously change, you can hand her over now." Erik said demandingly and placed his arms out to receive the girl. _

_Jacques hesitated a moment, then placed her back into Erik's waiting arms. _

"_May I be so bold to ask a question sir?" Jacques enquired. _

"_You just did…" Erik replied, wrapping the blanket around the girl. _

"_Then another sir?" Jacques asked. _

_Erik looked at him with a blank stare. It was obvious the boy did not understand the hidden meaning, or the irony of the response. He could just see it now, they'd be standing there till dawn him saying 'you already have,' hoping Jacques would get the idea and leave the situation alone. He _knew_ what the boy wanted to ask, and he was _not _going to answer the question. All the while Jacques would overlook the subtly of Erik's good nature and try to find an adequate way of asking his burning question. _

_Sighing, Erik merely looked at the boy and stated, "No." _

"Hello Belle, how are you tonight?" The young man asked the 9-month-old baby. Erik had refused to tell him her name, and so Jacques had christened her with the nickname the second time he had met her. She smiled and reached towards Jacques with her arms outstretched. She had gotten used to the routine. Erik would hand her over for many reasons. Firstly, so he could look over what Jacques had provided him and derive a price that suited what was brought. Secondly, so he could retrieve his money, and remove it from a small purse, then give it to Jacques, and thirdly, just to please the girl. She had some fascination with the young man.

"I also brought you some fruit, my sister has a baby her age and mashes it up and feeds it to her. It gives you more options than the milk."

Erik looked up from where he knelt beside the bag sorting through it. There was his Dani, laughing and playing with the man. He felt no shame, no anxiety to see them together; he finally knew Jacques understood how much he needed to raise her. What Jacque didn't know was he had been mashing solid foods for her for a few months.

Slipping a few more coins than usual into Jacques purse, Erik rose and placed it in the young man's hands.

"Treat yourself well my friend. Propose to the girl." Erik said tossing the purse into his one hand. Jacques face paled. He sputtered, then whispered,

"How did you know?"

In all honesty, Erik had merely surmised that to be the situation. But again, he had always been good at picking up on situations.

"She's really not your sister is she? She's some girl you love. Be a father to that child." Erik said, hastily taking Danielle into his arms.

"Thank you sir," was all Jacque could say before he walked away.

When Erik got Danielle home, he mashed the peaches to mush before placing Danielle in a highchair.

The entire experience was quite unique. It seemed there was more peach on Danielle and Erik than inside her little body. He then gave her a bath. Once finished, he had left her for a few moments, which lead to this predicament.

"This child is getting harder to handle by the day... Oh Danielle, please, please don't be hurt." He said his heart racing. He had put away many things that were considerably dangerous to her when she broke one of his vases.

She was not in her shrine of a room with toys everywhere, nor was she in the den, near the fireplace... He was thankful for that, she would be covered in soot if she were there. He finally looked into his room.

There she was sitting with her face away from the door right beside his coffin. Her little body was still wet from the water, but she did not shiver sitting naked in the middle of the floor. She was making cooing sounds and pointing to the music box that was sitting on his wardrobe. The very music box he would put her to sleep every night with in Christine's old room.

"Danielle?" He called to her.

She turned and saw him standing there, "Aaaaaaahhhhh...Noooooooooo," She said with a soft squeal at the sight of the man who looked after her.

"Hello there, little Angel, thought you could sneak away from Erik?" he asked her and cocked his brow. She looked up at him with happiness in her eyes.

She shook her head and smiled while she rubbed one eye with her fist. Erik was sure that she had grown hair much faster than the majority of infants because it was already beginning to curl around the edges of her face. He chuckled at her toothy grin, remembering all the hell she had put him through while teething.

"Ewriiiiiiiik" she said.

His heart leapt, he had been listening to her mimicking noises and trying to copy him.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Whad dad u sah?" she asked looking at him with wonder in the large blue eyes.

Erik laughed at as joy overfilled his heart. She laughed as well and turned back to the monkey out of her reach. She crawled over to the base of his feet and raised her arms in a sign of being picked up. It wasn't her first word, it wouldn't be her last, but he was so overwhelmed with the situation, he didn't care.

"Erik?" He said pointing to himself.

"Ewik..." She said opening her hands and closing them.

"Erik..." He said and happily picked up the little girl.

"Erik loves you so."

**_( ' ) '  
-_ **

_**Farewell  
my fallen idol  
and false friend . . .** _

Raoul sat there looking over papers that looked like they were written in a foreign language. Slowly he turned the paper around and noticed it made more sense the right side up. _Silly me,_ he thought, but even right side up the words were blurred past the point of recognition.

_Well, this has taken a lot of effort for nothing, time to reward myself_.

"I think I need a drink," He mumbled aloud and looked at the bottle in front of him.

Empty.

_That has been happening a lot lately,_ he thought_. Maybe some whiskey tonight since the brandy has been polished off._ When he got up to retrieve a fuller bottle, he instantly fell over to the floor beside the chair.

_How did I get here on the floor? _

Suddenly the door opened and a servant girl entered "Mlle Gi... oh pardon me sir, I shall send her aw..." the little servant blushed and began to close the door.

"Send her in! Send her in, she have seen worse in worser states." He said in a happy tone. It was about time Meg arrived, he loved her company, he loved her smile, and she made him happy for brief moments. He stared dumbly at the maid as she hesitantly opened the door further so Mademoiselle Giry could enter the room. It was obvious to everyone that the study wreaked of spirits. He watched as Meg stepped hesitantly into the room. His first thoughts were on her lovely blue gown, however it wasn't long before he noticed her face grimace in displeasure.

He wasn't surprised, and to be honest, he had hoped that it wouldn't come to that. He was always being nagged at by his brother and… well his brother, but the idea of Meg at him made him sober a mere fraction.

"Will you please leave us Cora?" He asked waving the timid maid out of the room.

"Certainly sir." She hastily replied and humbly bowed before exiting.

"Hello Meg, darling..." He said from his position on the floor, he could see her hard and icy stare as she walked past him and towards his desk to pick up the empty bottle of brandy. The side of silk brushed against his face as she maneuvered around him. He tried to remember when he had seen her this lovely, but she broke into his thoughts with her quiet and determined words.

"I see you are well into your night." She said coldly.

"Meg don't you pretty your worried little head, I will be fine!" He said giggling and trying to stand. It was to no avail, and before he realized what he was doing, he fell into her arms.

"Your drunk." She stated.

"Is there ever a time I'm not?" He asked her, trying to stand and leave her arms. He managed to stand as long as he had his hand on his desk. But she didn't remove her arms right away. He could smell the honey on her hair, her fresh woman scent. He felt a stirring within himself, memories of Christine perspiring beneath him, before he could grasp them, they vanished into the haze of his mind, and Meg had withdrawn her arms from around him.

"You can't keep this up Raoul, you're sinking farther and farther..."

"You sound like my brother," He snorted, cutting her off.

_Why must she ruin the moment?_ He thought,_ if she really wants to help I could think of a way to take my mind off of Christine. No… it really wouldn't work, it wouldn't be Meg you saw, it would be Christine's eyes on your face, and Christine's skin that you would taste, not to mention Meg would never ever let you touch her like that. She was Christine's best friend for God sakes! That is the only reason why she cares for you, checks up on you, makes sure you haven't killed yourself yet. _

"I can't keep doing this Raoul." She said quietly, breaking him from his thoughts. There he stood, swaying against the desk, watching the petite blonde as she bared her soul to him. She was breaking their one golden rule, never to talk about how they truly felt.

"You can't what? You don't seem to be doing anything! " He said, stating the obvious. He was pretty sure he knew what she was trying to say, but he didn't want to hear it. She came out here to spend time with me, goddamn it, I won't have her ruin it by telling me what I don't want to hear.

"That's the problem, you're absolutely right, I am not." She muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. As he gazed at her, he felt guilt buried within his heart, his reaction to Christine's death was doing this to her. This poor girl, all she wanted was to make sure he survived and he was killing her in the process. That didn't stop him though, why should it? She knew what she was getting into, why should he have to protect her from his demise? He once was silly enough to believe his protection was worth anything; it was now that he knew better. Shaking his head, confused by all the thoughts he was thinking at once, he shoved them all back into the depths of his head. What use was it now to think when he was muddling up all these feelings? It was easier to just smile at his guest.

"Nothing to fear then, problem solved! All is well..."

"No not all is well," she said trying to get through to him, "I cannot see you anymore Raoul." She looked in his eyes as she said it to see if there was any reaction. If she had expected him to break down, or be angry with her, she would have been disappointed. For all that happened was they clouded over for a second before he quickly shook the notion and smiled.

"Then that calls for a drink! Let me just find a new bottle..." he stumbled, slumped over away from the desk.

"RAOUL! You cannot keep drinking, please..." She begged, reaching out for him, but he brushed her off. He had never brushed her touch away; she then knew he was upset with her.

"Nonsense, it will be fine, it always is..." he said bitterly.

"It's not fine, you do this you will die Raoul, you've gone lower than Chris..."

"SHUT UP!" He screamed slapping her in the face. It had not been that hard, a mere clumsy strike, but it was their friendship he had wounded more. She covered her face with her hand in disbelief, stared at him with tears in her eyes, shocked he would ever hurt her. He felt tears well in his eyes, the shame burn from within that he would ever lift a finger to his closest friend.

"Meg… please, I am so s…" he started, stumbling towards her, wanting to hold her, stroke her and tell her he was wrong. Christine would be so ashamed of him, so disgusted that he would ever harm another human being. As he tried to get towards her she cowered at his touch and stepped out of the way of his embrace. He wasn't ready for such a quick motion and he found himself on the ground. She would never let him near her again; she would never let him repent for his crime against her. If there had been any chance of winning her back, he had lost it now; their friendship would never get past this. He couldn't tell if it was the thought that he would never be able to see Meg again or the idea that every woman he had ever cared remotely for had left him that did it, but right there on the study floor, he began to sob uncontrollably.

Meg let a tear fall as she lowered herself to him cautiously. She stayed a distance away, but reached out an arm to touch his shoulder cautiously.

"You need to stop drinking, for you are lower than six feet under the world, you have hit rock bottom and if it weren't for your fancy clothes, wealth and title, you wouldn't be recognized out of any other drunkard that hang around the brothels of Paris." She said with some small semblance of spite.

"Enough please, Meg leave me alone..." He said angrily and looked her in the face. "You are not my wife Meg, you will never be Christine." He said with venom.

She stood slowly, her sad face pink by his touch, but no mark would show in the morning. That didn't matter now anyways, she looked at him one last time before she left him forever.

"No one ever will be." Was all she could say.


	27. When Everything's Made to be Broken

**AN – **Sorry this chapter took so long, it's probably because of all the work I have to do and the fact it's a completely original chapter in context. There's just one thing I'd also like to say to reviewers. I've never gotten a flame, or anything in constructive criticism, (Not that I'm necessarily complaining that all my reviews are saying I'm doing well.) It's just that, I get paranoid, and I'd like to say that if anyone out there ever wanted to, I'd enjoy it. I've never claimed I was the most amazing writer of our time. I would love to one day be a professional, but I'm still young, and I'm still an amateur. I know that some things might not add up, or might not be just quite right timeline/period/history wise. But I would like to say that I put A LOT of effort into this story, some may get the references I make, and some might not. But I do take time to research some things. I just hope that wins me brownie points.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: When Everything's made to be broken **

There was no tune, no soft melodies that could be heard, and still she danced. She danced nimble and softly along the stage that had been her home for years. She wore her oldest slippers, her hair in a loose ponytail, but it did not matter. This dance was for no one, no one but herself. Ballet was a strict art, one filled with Pique en arabesque's and Saut de Basque's, but as she danced, she had learned to drop all words and meaning around the actual art and just _move. _Her hand extended in front of her, her face stilled, and she allowed herself to think about certain events that had yet to leave her mind.

Raoul, she hadn't spoken to him since the incident, no matter how she had longed to. Her mother was right, her feelings for him were more than just empathy and companionship. She hadn't realized until it was too late. As she gracefully jumped, then stepped backwards, she felt her face tingle where he had laid his hand. She had had no right to bring up Christine's memory in such a fashion. He had had no right to use force against her, they had both wronged each other worse than either could imagine.

_Oh Raoul, I'm so sorry._

( ' ) '  
-

**_Could it be?  
Could it be Christine?_ **

He sat by the crackling fire, staring half asleep into its depths. His eyes heavy with exhaustion, his mind to busy to let him sleep, he could still see her lying there, the blood trailing from her mouth. He could still hear her soft whispers, as the flames flared all higher.

"Erik," she called to him, but he still thought it all a dream.

She had been a goddess, a natural beauty. But what most did not understand about his intentions was that half of his desires for her had nothing to do with her face. A good deal of it hadn't been about her singing either. It had been something else, some innocent air, some diligent kindness that had thrown him over the edge. He had longed to preserve that girl, but teach her to know her desires as well. To have her perspire above him, but blush at his touch, she had been his dream, his one true love.

It reminded him of a conversation he had had with an Irishman in a little town on the outskirts of Paris, when Erik had went for his little vacation away from Christine. They had been drinking wine in a dark and dank bar when the Irishman had started the conversation.

"_Pining for your Galatea?" He asked._

_Erik's body froze, his heart skipped a beat, and he forgot to breath for a moment. Not only did he understand the reference to the Greek Myth, but also was almost a perfect reference to their tumultuous relationship._

"_What difference does it make? She does not need me; I only am her creator. Just a Pygmalion who had no idea what the cost was to bring his ivory virgin to life." Erik mused. This man's voice, it confused his senses, part of his dialect sounded faintly Scottish, partly Irish, and mostly English. It was obvious he was pleased that Erik got the reference, for he smiled and nodded._

"_The irony of the story, I do so believe. Was it possible for Galatea, a woman of such beauty and purity, to love the very human Pygmalion? He had such high ideals, but could he live up to them?" The Irish/Englishman asked, but when Erik didn't respond he continued. "Or was it that the doting sculptor scared the young protégée away?"_

"_I do not wish to discuss my legend with you monsieur," Erik breathed menacingly._

"_Ah…but I'm sure it's an interesting legend monsieur, as all legend's are."_

( ' ) '  
-

_**Her?  
Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter.  
Promising Dancer.** _

_**Most Promising. **_

Her steps became faster and more chaotic. Dance had always been a form of meditation for the young woman, and now she was letting her emotions control it. Images of Raoul happy with Christine, and Christine happy just for the sake of being happy flashed to her. Watching them dance at the wedding, she could still see the genuine smiles of the lover,

She could see his smiles when he first saw her again at the opera, she could see their smiles when they visited the one time at the opera before the show started.

As she moved hurriedly, jumping from side to side, ridged and angry her dance became.

She could remember the baptism, Christine standing there, looking down on her child.

"_Christine, she is a blessing." She said._

"_She is indeed, it is comforting to know that something good came from this marriage." Her friend replied._

_Meg was taken back to hear her friend say such bitter and resentful words. She looked at her confused, wondering where it had come from._

_"Don't mind me Meg, I just spoke a thought." Christine murmured._

_"But Christine, what did that thought really mean?" Meg asked her friend. She watched as Christine looked back to Raoul who was shaking hands with the Priest and his older brother. They were putting on airs, too involved in their chatting to notice the two women holding the small girl._

_"Do you ever think, Meg… that 'happily ever after' isn't the ending to the story?" Christine whispered._

_"I… don't understand Christine." Meg stammered._

_"Just think, the beautiful princess, the knight/prince who saves her, what if it was all suppose to end differently?" She asked her friend._

_"Christine, are you suggesting you have stayed with…" Meg asked._

_"Shhh… Meg, not so loud." Christine whispered panicked._

_Before Meg could say anything else, Raoul had walked over to them, smiling briefly at Meg and then asked Christine if she was ready to return home._

_Christine raw face became one of complete collection, rather cool and polite, smiling and nodding to her husband in agreement. It had sent shivers up Meg's spine, as they walked away from her._

What had Christine meant? What had happened to Raoul and Christine while Meg had not been apart of their life? She wished to know, she had always wondered, but she had let it go when seeing how Raoul mourned for Christine.

( ' ) '  
-

**_The Phantom of the Opera is there_…  
_Deep down, below…._ **

"Erik," fell unto his ears, slowly he turned his head hoping he could find the source of the voice. As he looked towards the front door of the underground house, he could see it open, and a flash of white, pass by it.

He heard her soft giggle, her entrancing words. Could it be? Could it be her? She had been dead for a year, how could her sweet voice be carried down to him, after so much time had paced.

_"You forget yourself monsieur, you are no longer in your home country, just because I am capably of English does not mean I wish to speak with you." Erik continued._

"_Oh but, it's rather drawl to speak to anyone else, have you not noticed? I could lie and say Frenchmen are chauvinistic pigs, whom all bore me, but in all honesty, I myself find many men of that nature. The English are tedious, the Irish have been known for nothing but being drunken fools. I long for intelligent conversation, if it so please you I could speak in French." The man told Erik._

"_I wouldn't matter if you spoke to me in the dead language of the sea scrolls, I wouldn't respond." He snorted, and then took a languid sip from his wine. The company was more pleasant than silence, however he wasn't exactly willing to divulge his life's secrets._

"_Your pain blinds you. Perhaps it's not the story of Pygmalion that surrounds you, but one more along the lines of Frankenstein." The other man suggested._

"_But that would make no sense by your own reasoning, if I am her creator, then I would be Dr. Frankenstein, and she the monster. No, she is no monster; I was more intrigued by your previous allusion to Galatea." _

"_Oh but hear me out kind sir, for it is all possible for her to be Frankenstein, Perhaps, she is your creator, you the monster?"_

"Erik, where did you go?" she sounded displeased. He walked towards the front door, and followed the small path towards the lake. As he looked across it's shimmering black depths, and over to the side where a tunnel lead around a corner and up a flight of stairs, he was positive he had seen the slightest glimpse of something. He wanted to believe it was a woman's figure; he was desperate to understand what was happening. There was a part of him that thought he was wishing so hard, he was manifesting images of her.

As he rowed across the lake hurriedly, he thought back to Danielle asleep at home, but it was almost fleeting. If he could bring her back a mother, he was sure she'd forgive his abandonment.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Wildly my mind beats against you  
But my soul obeys_ **

Between Pas de bourrée dessus en tournant and Pas de bourrée piqué dessous's Meg felt the tears fall. She had heard rumor of what he was doing now with himself, but she was too scared to actually write to him. If it were true, he wouldn't respond anyways, there was no way he could.

Why did she mourn for him so? After all, she had a handsome new suitor after her hand recently. A young man who seem troubled but absolutely devoted to her. Mother, of course did not approve, but how could she? When she knew that Meg's heart was hardened by the loss of something that was never truly hers?

He was handsome, this new stagehand, and he wanted to make Meg his. Why shouldn't she accept his hand? Who else would offer? If she was waiting for some fairytale ending it wouldn't turn out that way, after all, hadn't Christine told her that happily ever after isn't what it seems?

As she began her tour de force to finish, she sobbed angrily. Faster, she spun, realizing that the dance mimicked her emotions, spinning wildly out of control, and the dance being life, a cruel and strict exercise.

As Meg's ankle began to tire and she spun more and more widely out of control, she didn't notice that her mother had come to stand in the shadows at the edge of the stage, she had been there for minutes, watching reverently as her daughter's dance came to a halting end.

_Oh my little Megan, _Madame Giry thought, _so, now you know what it is to love._

_( ' ) '  
- _

_**Down this path,  
Into darkness deep as hell! **_

_"Mister stop, whatever he did, get off of him." Erik could hear quietly in the distance._

_  
Sound was like the tide, creeping back into reality. He hadn't realized that it had all disappeared until people were trying to pry his fingers from the throat of his imposed companion. He didn't even remember how he had gotten there over top of the other man who's face was now turning a dark shade of purple. As the sound came rushing back to his ears he heard a 'whoosh' sound and a thud against his skull. Glass shattered around his shoulders and all over the floor; he released his victim with much reluctance. _

_"Let go!" He heard men screaming in various languages and tones. The Englishman grasped his throat, which convulsed as air rushed through the passage. Erik became docile in the arms holding him back, he knew if he struggled more that this situation could become much, much worse._

_"Let go of him." The man rasped._

_Several men, including Erik went deadpan, obviously surprised by the outcome. The man looked wearily around at the other bar folk then turned to Erik._

_"Are you alright?" The Englishman asked. All Erik could do was nod._

_"Then let him go, there was no harm done, leave him be."_

Time was almost fleeting, as he climbed those stairs that led upwards, he realized that it was if he was following some guiding light, through the darkness, which had prevailed and guided him towards the surface.

"Erik," he heard her giggle, as he touched the damp wall to balance him. She was weakening his knees, causing him to feel dizzy, confused, but determined all at once. He couldn't tell if she was the lighthouse, guiding him away from danger, or she was his siren, who would lead him to death.

_"Are you hurt?" The Englishman asked him._

_"I would think I should be I asking you that question."_

_"I deserved that…At least, I do believe. It hadn't occurred to me why you wore the mask, until I was grasping at it and caught a glimpse of what was underneath."_

_"So… you have seen my visage." Erik murmured angrily._

_"Yes… and before you ask, yes… I will not lie, I am terrified by it and would rather you keep the mask on. But I would hope you reward me for my honesty and my hospitality. After all, I fear that if the other men in the tavern knew what lay beyond the boundaries they would have certainly left you for dead."_

_Erik did not dispute this observation, he was sure that the man was right and that there was no reason to argue a point that was well made. He was honest, and even though he'd like to believe that he could take on any member of the tavern and that he was a deadly force to be reckoned with. Erik knew that pride had a tendency to cloud many a good men's judgment. Without his lasso, he was only half the deadly assassin he once was._

_"What then, do you desire for a reward? My silence?" Erik asked._

_"Oh, of course, but I think your intelligence is what keeps you silent. It's also what intrigues me enough to ask for my reward. I'd merely like you to finish the conversation we were carrying, of course, without my rude interjections. Please… have a drink with me, and we shall discuss great works."_

_"How shall I address you?" Erik asked._

_"You may call me Bernard," was the reply._

_"Then you may call me Erik."_

As he reached the trapdoor that would lead to the stage, he heard her more strongly, and at the same time, distantly. His heart cringed, feeling her presence, and her voice, but knowing that it was more and more from within him than surrounding him. He pushed forward, although he started to realize that there was no reason for him to be continuing.

Slowly, he clicked the mechanism that allowed him to open the door and creep silently onto the stage. Maybe if he spent some time on the stage, he could recall her voice one last time, maybe those haunting tones that he welcomed and hated would return.

Before he could enter the light he saw the candles flickering center stage. Quietly, he slipped behind the back curtains, and watched a young woman spin wildly out of control and fall to the ground. It wasn't a graceful drop, and yet, it wasn't a complete wreck.

He watched as her shoulders rose and fell in agony, her sobs the only sound that resonated from the stage. He pitied her, for whatever reason she needed it, but he was disappointed, with her there, he would never be able to try and remember Christine's voice, especially when all he could hear were the little blonde's sobs.

At closer inspection, he realized it was little Meg Giry, Mme. Giry's daughter. She had been Christine's closest friend back when they had had a chance. As he watched her pound her little fists onto the floor, his heart flooded with empathy for the child. He did not know her reasons, but he wanted to protect her from whatever was tearing her apart. He knew all to well what kind of consuming pain caused someone to fall to that kind of destruction. Then he remembered Jacque's comments about Raoul and her. Anger flared deeply past the empathy, he hated the boy more than ever. He did not know why, he didn't believe Raoul to be unfaithful, not even now with Christine gone. However, even knowing this, he somehow knew the boy was to blame. Sneaking back the way he came, he left the youngest Giry on the stage.

( ' ) '  
-

**_Love me,  
That's all I ask of you._ **

Madame Giry watched as Erik retreated into the shadows. Had she been surprised that he had returned? No, in many ways she hadn't. Then again, not much could actually surprised Madame Giry these days. She had seen the best and worst times at the opera house, a place known for intense melodrama's on the stage and off. But at the moment, Erik wasn't her biggest concern; she merely tucked the information to the back of her brain and braced herself.

As Meg continued to sob uncontrollably, she walked swiftly over to her daughter. She had heard the gossip herself, and had asked around to reliable sources to see if it was true. To her relief, and to Meg's obvious dismay, it was. She lowered herself to Meg, and wrapped her arms around the girl in love and a small gesture of affection that she usually reserved for private anyways.

"Oh mother." Meg sobbed and clung to the arms as though they were her lifeline.

"I shall accept Claude's proposal."

* * *

LotRseer3350 – Do you not like my Meg/Raoul that's not going anywhere ness? I thought it made the story richer… in that whole "they only love each other right now because that's all they know kinda thing, but then it will turn to real love but by then it's too late! Ack! So complicated, everyone always ends up unhappy… is this realistic, it so could be if written properly…" you know, kinda thing.

soccernat11 – does Raoul being actually… a dimensional character, make you happy?

Mominator124 – babies are so much fun to write… they always produce miracles, even though my significant other dislikes them (

Computerfreak101 – I hope you liked it, more Meg angst!

My other reviewers – Happy Canada day… yesterday…now… cuz I took too long to write S Plus, I soooo hope someone got my 'Bernard' reference.


	28. These Dreams

The Psychotic One- Thank you for your indepth review, it was really nice. I'm confused as to which chapter you were talking about, so I may go back and re-edit it, chapter twenty seven or six?

asingledarkcrimsonrose - HA! you have NO idea, the whole scarydad-Erik-thing is what the entire last half of the book is about, though its understandable, and very complicated, and he has a right to worry.

LotRseer3350- Erik will do nothing, he's too into Danielle to give a damn about Raoul. Christine's voice? Well, Erik has always been, a little delusional, and maybe like Raoul a part of him snapped.

I Despise Raoul- Canada day is Canada's Birthday. It's the first of July, it's kinda like the Canadian version of Independance day, with the barbeque's and fairs and fireworks and stuff.

KieraLee- Yes! thankyou for being the only person to mention they noticed that Claude is soon to be Meg's husband!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: These dreams **

**_She's been taking lessons  
from a great teacher_ **

The voice and organ rose as one, until it reached a tremendous crescendo and then fell until it was a whisper. He would have played on just to listen to her soft, smooth voice that soothed his very being, but there were no more notes left on the page to be played. Erik let out an exasperated sigh while raking his hair with his fingers. Such beauty in purest sound always made him want to weep.

"You did excellently Danielle." He said finding his voice, and finally looking over to her. She sheepishly smiled at him, and tucked her chin in to her chest, letting her curly hair fall into her eyes.

Her smile lit his heart on fire.

"Thank you Erik," The five year old said and came over to the bench where he was sitting.

"I have never heard such a beautiful rendition of 'Twinkle, Twinkle little star.'" He said as she opened her small arms in a gesture that she wanted to be picked up.

He hesitated for a moment, as he always did, then took her small body into his arms and sat her right beside him on the organ stool. He was always shocked that the child loved him so unconditionally; with such devotion he could never accept. _She doesn't understand, _he always thought. _It is one thing to love her, but me? She does not know me; she could not ever truly love me.  
_  
"One day I shall learn to play this." Danielle said quietly in awe at the majestic instrument in front of her.

He was bemused at her proper manner of speech. _Her brain is developing faster than her body, mind you, she does live with you,_ he thought.

"Your lessons are done for the day." He murmured into her hair, as he brushed one of the brown curls out of his face.

He loved the feeling of silk running through his long, old fingers. It was one of his many pleasures, it was quite pleasant to be able to just touch someone without them flinching away.

"All of them? Mathematics, and writing, and singing?" She asked not really paying attention to what he was telling her, she was already running her porcelain fingers along the worn keys.

"All of them little Angel, I cannot really judge your writing, mine has never been sufficient to read. Your singing is excellent and by doing 'twinkle twinkle' you're starting to sound more proficient in English, soon we'll take up Swedish and Latin. As for your mathematics... what is 4+3 equal to?"

"Seven... and 4-3 is 1 and 7+1 is 8... I know my simple addition Erik." She said looking up at him with striking green eyes.

Over the years, her eyes and turned the shade of an emerald green; unlike the previous color they had held resembling sapphires. Sapphires, like Christine's eyes that he had yearned for so much. That was the only trait of her father's that she processed, and if he didn't look to closely he could pretend that she really was his daughter. If he could pretend Danielle was his, sometimes he could imagine that Christine did not die as tragically as he dreamt every night when sleep finally overtook him at last.

And yet, every time the little one looked at him with such love, and adoration, his heart spilt in two. In those moments when she looked at him, he knew he was not her father, not anyone particularly special, just her caretaker.

"So I may go read?" She asked with excitement.

"Have I ever stopped you?" He asked with a smirk.

Smiling as only she could do, she kissed his unmasked cheek and ran into the den area where all the books were stacked on shelves.

Letting out a shaky sigh Erik realized he needed time to recuperate. _Such devotion could kill someone,_ he thought. _Such love, and beauty is dangerous to your health old man. _

A typhoon of memories stormed around him, catching him off-guard and all so suddenly.

"_Erik… Erik I love you..." Christine whispered in her sleep. _

**_"Oh my angel, what are we to do?" she asked, snuggling closer against his body which spooned hers._ **

**"_I do not know my Christine." He cooed softly in her ear. He felt the brush of her curls against the exposed side of his face. _ **

_"What is wrong my dear?" he asked her pushing curls that had fallen into her eyes back from her face. She seemed so scared, as if she just had a nightmare, he could feel Nadir's eyes boring into his back. _

**_"Say it once more please." She asked barely above a whisper._ **

_"Say what?" he asked her curiously._

_"Call me, 'your' Christine." _

_**"I always loved you Erik, I always will... Thank you for loving me Erik. It was the most beautiful gift I have ever received other than Danielle…" **_

_"Only if you call me 'your' Erik," he retorted._

_"Alright, my Erik."_

**_Her laughter. _ **

_Her smile. _

**_Her eyes. _ **

_"Erik…" _

**_"Oh Erik." _ **

_"Eriiiiiiiiiik." _

"Erik, may you read to me?" Danielle called from the den.

"Uh... Not right now Danielle, I have to rest for a while." He said and fell over towards the coffin. His chest was seizing, tears blindly fell from his eyes and he was gasping and wheezing.

Too many memories, they had receded somewhat, but still spun around him like a fog overhead, thick and melancholy-like they spun until he felt faint. The memories were all surrounding her, his Christine, and how his little Dani and she were so close in comparison.

He climbed, literally, into his casket and closed his eyes, remembering to breathe. He hadn't had an attack in years, and unlike before Danielle, he was now terrified of them. To leave her now would surely be a crime. He couldn't let her starve down in the cellars of the opera, and picturing that fate for her always gave him the strength to carry on.

_"Erwik..." She had said still having a bit of a problem pronouncing it at the age of three. He had been sitting in front of his violin case, not touching it, only looking at it helplessly. Panic rose in him, he turned cautiously and saw her in the doorway. _

_"Yes my little Angel?" He asked uneasily. She had not been in this room since the age of two. How did she get out of her bed? He had only put her down for a nap..._

_How long ago? He couldn't remember how long he had been sitting there in that room. He wanted to protect her innocent eyes from the shroud of death and aura of evil it possessed. However when he looked into said eyes, he could see she was not upset, and that instead curiosity filled them till it spilt over into her actions. _

_"What's this?" She asked looking around. _

_"You know Danielle, you are not suppose to be in here." He said still sitting helplessly in a chair, his hands clenching the arms, not knowing what to do._

_"I knocked, no answer..." She said as she made her way into the room and looked all over it, all while playing with the curled ends of her hair. She was wearing a little blue dress that day, and her black dress shoes. Had she really knocked? He had not been playing so he would of been able to hear. He had not been playing for he never played. He only would sit there and remember the times when he found the courage too and Christine would listen in awe, listen or sing with the grace and beauty he only dreamed he could possess in his soul forever._

_"What's that?" She asked pointing to the coffin. He had been dreading that question, and forgot at the tender age of three, she would not know what a casket was. _

_"It's a Cat basket..." He said remembering the fib he told to Christine so many years ago._

_"Oh... but..." She said confused and walked towards him to be picked up._

_"Go on Dani angel, what is it?" He asked as he placed her in his lap after deliberating touching her or not._

_"We no have a Cat..." She said thinking._

He was brought back to earth by the sound of her fumbling over words.

"Then the boy said, I think that's won... won... won-der-ful." He heard her say with her melodious voice.

Oh that voice! What had he been thinking denying her music? Had he been deranged? He knew that it was still a wound closing for him at that time, and now all it left was a scar that he could remember fondly.

_"Erik," She had asked coming into the music room, this time she was four and he was less startled. She had_ _been walking into his room for more than a year._

_"Yes Dani?" He asked his gaze never leaving the ebony keys. He lightly touched them and felt an intense electricity run through his body. He had betrayed music; he had left her when she needed him the most. He had done to her what so many had done to him, shun her and pretend she was not important any longer._

_Sometimes when he was in a delusional state of mind, he truly believed she had sought revenge the night of Christine's death. That if he had not intended on playing the violin his Angel would have been alive still today._

_Music was punishing him for giving up on her; she was a cruel mistress indeed. So he would sit there, looking over at the keys, wondering what music intended if he tried to reclaim her once more._

_"What's this?" She said taking her thumb out long enough to point to the massive organ he was sitting in front of._

_"Danielle, stop sucking your thumb, I have told you a thousand times it's a bad habit, angel."_

_"Sorry Erik." She said hurt._

_"Oh Dani, no I am not angry with you, it is time though you break yourself from this habit. As for this, this plays music, it's an organ." He said dejectedly and ran a hand through his thin hair._

_Looking at the instrument made his eyes fill with tears. Would he ever be able to play like he once did? _

_"Why don't you play?" Dani said, as if she was reading his thoughts._

_"Because my little Angel, I can no longer play." He said_

_"Why not?" she asked as she finally attached herself to his leg._

_"I don't think I know how to anymore little one, it has been almost 6 years." He said looking down at her wistfully._

_"Wow, that's... that's... I'm four..." She said trying to understand how many years that technically would be._

_"Yes you are my angel, almost five now." He said hoping to change the conversation._

_"You never know till you try. Try to play Erik." She said looking back up at him with earnest eyes._

_Out of the mouths of babes, he thought. She looked at it then back at him, trying to tell him with her eyes to try. _

_Sighing, he touched the keys once more, and felt the familiar tingling sensation he felt whenever he sat there not playing. His mind urged him to play, if only to please the child he would give his life for, however his fingers could not press against them and create a sound._

_Frustrated he couldn't look at her, afraid of her displeasure. Slowly he rose from the seat and picked up Danielle._

_"Come my love, it is time for your dinner." He said pressing his lips to her forehead._

He came back to consciousness again, he could still hear her reading, but still he was too weak to leave the safety of his bed. Slowly another memory crept up on him.

_Erik felt shame from not being able to perform the simple task of playing the organ, until one day he heard her singing._

_"Ring around the Rosie, pocket full o posies." She was singing lightly out of tune._

_"What was that?" He said turning to her surprised._

_"The night we went for a walk. I heard a girl singing it. Near the bridge," She said looking back at him and repeating it._

_"Ring around the Rosie, pocket full o posies..." She sang again with such beauty that he was enraptured. However her voice was off-key, such an annoying little problem he could solve. Yes a new protégée to teach, a new angel of music, and this time he would not fuddle things up like he did with Christine. No this time things would be perfect; she would be perfect._

_After all, he already called her angel and placed her on his pedestal of affection._

_Without thinking Erik said "No Danielle like this..." and then played one of the keys in front of him so that the organ's glorious sound surrounded them and filled the room._

_Surprised that he finally conquered the fear of the instrument, he looked down to a beaming face below him still._

_"I know," She said simply and skipped off, singing the song in key._

"Erik?" He heard her call to him, slowly the fog of memories lifted and he opened his heavy eyes to see her standing above him.

"What's wrong angel?" He asked his voice filled with sleepiness.

"You have been sleeping for hours." She said simply.

"Oh my, I apologize my dear, are you hungry?" He asked her and lifting his weary body from his 'bed'. He couldn't keep sleeping in the casket or he would surely one day never get out of it. He was in his fifties now, and high time he got a bed. Perhaps one day he would do just that.

"Not really... its just..." She said and bit her thumbnail.

He smiled softly to himself; she still had not been able to break that habit, but it had its uses, he knew she only did it when she had something on her mind.

"Yes Dani? Continue." He told her.

"In the book I was reading, the little boy, well he had a Papa... A Father." She started.

_Oh no,_ he thought_, here it comes._ He would have to explain things to her and she would be crushed. She would either demand to be taken back or feel incomplete, all because of him.

"Well, I don't know what a Papa is." She said furrowing her brow in confusion and looking up at him.

He thought long and hard for a moment, what was he going to tell her? What was a father? He had never had one and all the people who should have been a parent to him had treated him with malice his whole life. All the books he had read made a father out to be a valiant man who cared for his children.

"It is, it is the um... well my angel, a father is..." He began to stumble.

"It is a man who cares about his child or children very much, one who loves them and takes care of them until they are grown up." He said thinking that was the most logical way of putting it.

"Oh well, then I suppose you are my father." She said with the same simplicity and innocence again.

"No Danielle, I am not your father, a father is related to you by birth." He said looking down at her.

"But... you love me don't you?" She said with a fearful voice that made him melt and for once, made him not hesitate to pick her up.

"Of course my angel, of course." He said trying to quell her fears.

"Then, is there really someone out they're who is related to me and loves me?" She asked repeating all the information he had given her.

"Yes, I'm sure there is actually Dani." He said kissing her forehead.

"But he doesn't take care of me! Not like you Erik..." She said

"My angel, I love you but I'm not related to you, it's not..."

"But, that does not matter, because I don't know him, I know you, and I'm YOUR angel!" She said with tears in her eyes "I'm YOUR angel Erik!" she said letting them slip.

"Oh yes Danielle, you are my angel, hush sweetheart, hush..." he said easing her head onto his shoulder.

"I don't want anyone to be my Papa but you Erik," She said fiercely. "I should get to pick! I should get to say who is my papa, who I love."

"I suppose you should." He said tiredly, not knowing what she was leading to.

She smiled as her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed his cheek. "Good, then I say you are my Papa, and that's what I am going to call you from now on." She said.

His heart skipped a beat, she had just called him Papa; something he had secretly wished for everyday.

"No Dani, that's not..."

"But Papa, you said!" She interjected. They stared at each other for a moment, that little girl in his arms, how could he deny her anything.

"You said I could choose, and I choose you, you are my Papa. That's final." She said firmly and nodded her head.

He couldn't help laughing, "Oh is it now?" he asked amused.

"Yes, now Papa we should go make supper." She said and looked out of the room.

Erik transferred her weight unto one of his sides and carried her out of his room into the kitchen.

This will be one of those memories I will reflect on, he thought as a tear fell behind his mask.


	29. Words Get in the Way

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Words Get in the Way**

_**Where in the world,  
have you been hiding?**_

"...et a contagiis mortalitatis exutam, in aeternae salvationis partem restitue. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen."

"Amen." Megan Giry said solemnly. Slowly, she walked over to the modest casket that her lay in front of her. It wasn't much, but it was the best that they could have afforded. She lifted her hand, and traced the sturdy wood with her delicate skin, before letting it fall to her side. It had been smooth, but not as smooth as the white rose she carried in her other palm. She looked closely at the flower that she held and thought about the last words her mother said to her on her deathbed. She reflected on the last four years, which had been hard on everyone she loved, but they had endured. They had been a team almost to the very end, and it wasn't until the woman with a sharp tongue and strict attitude who was a mother to all, finally caught a cold that even she could not handle, that their relationship was broken.

Meg could still hear her feverish voice.

"_Where is he?" Antoinette asked her daughter, she was searching the room with her eyes, her hair which had normally been in a tight bun, fell to her shoulders, the blonde streaked with many silver highlights, her face was pallid, causing her green eyes to stand out rather brilliantly. _

"_At home, I couldn't bare for him to see you like this." Meg told her mother, sitting on the bed, pressing a damp cloth to her mother's forehead. Her mother groaned and swatted Meg's tender care away as she tried to keep herself conscious._

"_No not him… Erik, where is Erik?" Her mother asked her. Meg frowned, this was the third time the older woman had asked for this 'Erik' and it would be the third time that Meg had to deny her that final request._

"_Maman… I do not know any Erik, you keep asking me that, but, I…"_

"_Oh how silly of me, he's but a ghost, ghost's have no time to haunt the dying. Oh Erik, if you only knew my heart. Or did you? Did you and we both danced around the subject like only true dancer's could do?" She said, the fell into a fit of coughing. When the pain subsided she continued._

"_Meg, did I ever tell you about where your name came from?" She asked her daughter._

"_Yes maman, you've told me several times, how it was grandfather's mother's name."_

"_Did I ever tell you that your father never forgave me for not naming you Alexandrine, after his own mother? That he thought a foreign name was an abomination?"_

"_No… maman, you never told me that." Meg said brushing the hair out of her mothers face._

"_Your father hated me after you were born Meg… I… I never told you because I wanted you to have this image preserved of him, of a gentle and loving man, but you need to know that Percival was nothing like my stories."_

"_Why are you telling me this now?" Meg asked curious and a trifle upset. Why after all these years would her mother come clean?_

"_I needed you to know what my intentions were." She stated_

"_I can understand now, maman. Just rest, please."_

_"Remember my dear," her mother said as kindly as she could._

_"Remember that things are not always what they seem. The Opera Ghost may be dead but he is still alive..." She whispered to Meg leaving her to dismiss the last words as delirious ramblings._

She kissed the petals of the flower, as though it were her mother's weary head, and then placed it gently where her hand once lay. Her breath was shaky as she backed away and watched the coffin lowered into the earth. She had no idea how long she stood there, watching her mother be consumed by dirt and darkness, but it was then she chose to walk away from the scene; after all she couldn't stand there forever as dirt was shoveled over top. She turned around and began to walk away from the gravesite.

Her mouth pressed into a firm line like her old maman's, as people began to part for her to walk by. Most gave brief condolences, knowing she was not able to discuss the passing. Politely she nodded her head thanking them for coming with a sad smile. She was surprised to how many people had come to her mother's funeral. It seemed Madame Giry managed to touch the lives of many within the opera house, from the ballerina's to the managers. The only people not in attendance were Carlotta and her new husband Adolpho, the leading tenor in the Opera Populaire

"Megan, dear, I am so sorry." Firmin said to her quietly as he and Andre approached.

It was then that Andre began his small speech, "We just are thankful that you agreed to take your mother's position as the ballet mistress. As you know, the years your mother worked for us were always efficient and there is no one better then our own once prima ballerina daughter to..."

Andre stopped mid sentence when he did not get the reaction he had hoped for. Instead of listening intently and smiling appropriately, Meg's face had gone a pale white and her green eyes and widened in unadulterated surprise. He was worried; for it was obvious to both the men that she was no longer paying attention to them, but to someone behind them. Firmin watched her as she placed her hand on her throat and whispered a familiar name.

Slowly, he and his partner turned around and saw a man a few metre's behind him staring at her with an equally indescribable expression on his face.

"Hello Meg," The man said simply, as though he could not think of what to say to her in such times. It was then that Andre recognized who he was. It was the young Vicomte de Chagny, Raoul. He was a bit older yes, four years or so, with a moustache and a weathered face, nevertheless it was obvious he was still a man in his prime.

"Hello Raoul." Came the hoarse reply.

( ') '  
-

_**What new surprises lie in store?**_

Raoul could sense her surprise as he approached her. What had he been thinking coming to see her after 4 and half years? Their short relationship had been a tumultuous one, and both had not said goodbye in a very appropriate manner. Who was he kidding? He had hurt her more than words could describe by slapping her drunkenly, then falling to the floor to cry for his dead wife. No, they had not said goodbye at all really, He had just been too cowardly to apologize for his horrible behavior.

He had been too cowardly to tell her he was leaving for America.

Had she called on him when he was away? He did not leave an address he could be reached at, he didn't leave her anything, and after all she had given him. He looked at her closely, her beautiful eyes not meeting his, but staring to the ground. Her thick blonde hair was not down like he was so use to, but piled on top of her head with fine combs, some loose curls falling around her face. He looked over her attire and realized that in her mother's death that Antoinette still lived on through her daughter. If it were appropriate, he would of smiled at the black saffron dress Meg wore in mourning, for was practically identical to the old woman's

Her face was covered with surprise at his presence.

"It is... a surprise to see you," She said trying to regain her composer.

God he had missed her, not as much as he had missed Christine, not as much as he still did, but her friendship was something he did not realize was the only good thing left for him until he broke it severely.

The men in front of her took this opportunity to make their quick exit with a short goodbye, however her sad green eyes never left his for a moment. He had forgotten their beauty.

Slowly he walked towards her, hoping that even if she could not forgive him, he could make peace with her.

"I haven't seen you in..." She started but couldn't finish.

"Four years..." He finished for her, looking at his feet. He had broken the eye contact; he couldn't bear to see her anguish and wonderment.

"I... I tried to get in contact with you, I wrote you letters, but I was told later on... Philippe… Well you left so, suddenly." She finished.

"For America, I needed time to pull myself together. I needed time to grieve properly." He said quietly and looked her in the eye.

"For America, yes, I know. I needed time to pull myself together, I needed time to grieve properly." He said quietly and lifting his head to face her.

When he finally looked at her face again, he was shocked to find tears, falling down her cheeks, her full, bottom lip, quivering.

"Listen, Megan, that night..." he started, starting to feel that he shouldn't be there.

"Oh Raoul, There is no need..." She sighed, shaking her head and breaking their eye contact.

"No there is, I acted like an idiot, I mean you were there to help me..." he said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"It was merely a misunderstanding..." She said as he tried to explain himself.

"... And I acted like an utter child." He finished with her at the same time.

They stopped talking over each other for a moment to smile sadly at the awkward position they were in.

"I missed you Meg." He finally said simply, removing his hand and feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

He could see her hesitation; she was uncomfortable too, he could tell as she bit into her lovely pink lip. He did not understand it. Had she not missed him? Probably not, for the most of the time they spent together he had acted as a child whining to her about Christine and the baby instead of helping her grieve for her departed friend as well.

"... And I you Raoul, I you..." She finally whispered to him.

He couldn't think of what to say, there was so much. His recovery from being an alcoholic, his un-endless search to find out the truth about his child and wife's death. But at that moment all he could do was look at her as though he was seeing her for the first time in years. Her blonde hair was still as thick and luminous as ever, she did not wear it as tightly as her mother did, but it was more tamed then the last time he saw it. Her eyes were not the deep emerald that his had been described as, but lighter. So many people referred to the sea as blue, but as an ex naval officer he knew all too well what the colour of the sea was. The sea was the color of Meg's brilliant eyes. Her frame was still quite small but he could tell by her cheeks that she had gained a little weight over the years. It was she who spoke next.

"I don't mean this in anyway offensive, but why are you here Raoul, why now?" She asked looking at him with pleading eyes.

"I... I came back because I received news about Christine and Danielle." He said simply, confused by his earlier intense scrutiny of her looks.

"Oh..." She said looking like he had let her down somehow, but made sense all at the same time. He had been gone four years, and he still did not understand the young woman in front of him. She was so quiet and secretive about how she truly felt about everything, that he was always puzzled in her presence. He reminisced on a time when her quirky smile and laughter would fill the room she was in, how her stories and presence always brought a happy feeling to whoever was around her. She had reminded him of a sprite; a little faerie that caused mischief accidentally, but could solve any problem with a smile. Now she seemed to have run all out of stories, and he would do a thousand tricks just to hear her twinkling laughter once more. He wondered if she still had the ability to make others feel that way.

Here, after four years, with that sad distant look on her face, he didn't know if she could. It killed a part of him to know that she may have lost that affect that was so deeply rooted in her personality. Had it been him who killed it? Had she had some other hardships that led her to such pressed lips and a slightly creased face? Had it been the death of her dear mother?

"I only heard of your mothers death through the paper, I would have contacted you sooner, but..."

"I know Raoul." She stated sadly. They stood there again for some time, how he could get started a flowing conversation, he did not know.

"Would you like to go for some dinner Meg? I have so much to tell you," he asked her hopefully. He did not want her to go, he did not want to leave the conversation at that, to allow everything to fall apart like it had so long ago. He wanted to take her out, to tell her of America and their custom breaking, about his journeys and his inner reflections. How he had gotten a lead on the murder of his wife and child. If he had thought that his offer would have brought a sweet smile to adorn her face, he was mistaken, for instead she looked at him in complete surprise.

"I would love to... but I can't, Adrienne is waiting in the carriage," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the carriage waiting for her.

Raoul was taken back, so his Meg had a suitor. His heart caved a touch and he felt a hint of jealousy. But why? He didn't want Meg, so why did he expect her to wait for him? Or was it the over protective feelings he had for her, as he would a sister? Was it that he couldn't handle the thought of anyone moving on and have a relationship after the death of his own wife. He shook the thoughts from his head and smiled happily at her. He didn't know how to feel about that, part of him felt elation at the thought of her finding happiness, and a small part of him felt rejected. He then smiled happily at her and went "Adrienne? Is he your betrothed? Are you married my dear?"

Her beautiful sea green eyes clouded over for a moment, and she blinked back the anguish, bemusement and happiness all at once. She smiled, but it was one of pride, love, and sadness. He was so confused by the vast range of emotions, that he took a step back. before saying," No Raoul, he is my son."


	30. Confessions of the Black Widows

**AN - **Well I'm back, I went to my uncle's funeral this weekend, hence the lack of updates, but here's a super long one to tie everyone over. Also, has anyone else heard of Count of St. Germain? I just read a few things on him today. He seems SOOO interesting and very close in comparison about a few things. That is, from what I've read... I really think that would be an interesting cross-over plot ish fanfiction. Seriously, go look up this guy, I tried to post a link but every time I save the freaking file it disappears. Try going to and the adding this to the end of it,

tomslemen/countstgermain.html

Review time.

**PucktoFaerie**- I did know that Raoul had sisters, but for the sake of my story, I'm leaving them out. I know that's changing something major in the plot, but it really was only mentioned in the original story, and because this story has differences from the original already, I've decided to go ahead and use my artistic license. It really does help my plot near the end; sorry if that ruins anything for you. As for my words running together, that's this stupid uploading thing. I always make sure I do spell check before I upload, and then on the site things start to run... I admit I don't always check the chapter after it's been actually uploaded to the story sometimes. But a lot of the time I do.

**Computerfreak101**- Oh it's Meg's husband's child, didn't you read? Meg accepted Claude's proposal. At least, four years ago... so... that would be tons of time for Meg to make babies.

**I Despise Raoul-** Erik, when will you learn I'm an obstinate child who does not take kindly to threats? That is why we could never be true loves my dear, our fighting was horrendous. Anyways, here's a loooong chappie.

**asingledarkcrimsonrose**- me thinks you're just a bright little phan aren't you?

**PhantomFan13**- thanks!

**Mini Nicka-** I replied to everyone else, so I might as well say something to you, or it would be totally leaving you out. I'd kinda be choked if that happened to me. So... yes... cliffy's are good... but I suppose not so nice when I go away for at least 4-6 days.

**Everyone else! Thanks for your support and reading! **

**WARNING: There is swearing and abuse in this chapter, therefore I'm moving my rating of the story higher. Also, I would love to hear EVERYONE'S opinion on sex within these stories and whether it degrades it or not. **

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Confessions of the black widows.**

_**It's a scandal that'll  
pack 'em in the aisles! **_

"Your son?" Raoul said taken back. Had he really been gone that long for her to have already married and have a child? He didn't know what to think, what to feel about this information. Was she happy? Did he ever return at a terrible time, barging in on her life like this?

What had he expected? He did not love her, so why did he expect she would wait for him? There was no need for her to wait. He just never pictured her getting married and starting a family of her own. He never imagined anyone getting married and being happy after the sudden death of the ones he loved so true.

"My son, would you like to meet him? He is waiting for me in the cab." She said and began to walk in the direction of the only carriage left in the area.

Slowly Raoul picked up his feet and ventured towards his fate. He was most likely about to meet her husband as well. Did this man deserve her? Was he worth Meg's time and devotion? He would soon find out.

She stood by the door and waited for him to peer inside, however all he could see the child's plump little legs kicking back and forth hitting the seat making a faint bumping noise, for they did not extend to the bottom of the floor.

Finally taking a breath, Raoul looked in to see a beautiful blonde boy sitting by himself in blue formal wear. He wore a little white shirt underneath the suit and a cap to cover up his golden curls. He was staring out the opposite window into the sunlight before he turned and looked over to Raoul, revealing large blue eyes.

"Ello," The little boy said shyly.

"Hello," Raoul said in awe of the child. He had not been around one in so long he forgot that they could talk at this age.

"Where's maman?" Adrienne asked him.

"Right here precious." She said and Raoul moved out of her way so she could ascend into the carriage beside her son.

"Maman! Can we see grandmere?" He asked happily as she sat down.

The small request made Raoul's heart break. It seemed the young boy did not understand this Sunday outing. He looked over to Meg who didn't seem surprised by the request.

"Honey, I told you, we cannot go see grandmere anymore. Grandmere went to go live with the angels." She said placing him in her lap, leaving an empty space in the carriage.

"Angels." Adrienne repeated quietly.

"He doesn't understand yet... This has all been so very hard for him to deal with." She said and looked to the empty seat and back to Raoul.

"Do you need a ride anywhere Monsieur? As you can see we have enough room."

"Actually, I would not mind a ride, to where I have no idea though... wait, no, I do have an idea, why don't we go to the park?" He asked Adrienne only to get a large smile in return.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh... to see DUCKIES! May we maman? Please?" He said making the word please sound more like, "Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease".

Meg looked at Raoul in surprise. "I had other plans, but how can I refuse you that love?" She said whispering into her son's ear. "All right, driver? Take us to the small park near the opera house."

( ' ) '  
-

_**Those who speak  
of what they know  
find, too late, that prudent  
silence is wise.** _

"He's beautiful Meg." Raoul said as they sat on the park bench in the warm afternoon.

Like Adrienne had said there were many ducks flying around and waddling towards the pond. The little boy waddled behind a family of the birds imitating them.

"I know." She said proudly watching him and fell into silence once more. She waited for Raoul to continue to try and make small conversation, but it was to no avail. The only sound that filled her ears were the sounds of her child's laughter and the ducks quacking. She figured that the man she hadn't seen in four years was waiting for an explanation.

Sighing, and wondering while she felt obligated to explain herself, she began her tale of woe.

"His name was Claude, he promised me a bright new future and love. He was poor; I knew it as well when we started together. However I couldn't help being drawn to his bumbling charm. He was the first man to ever notice me... really," The last word came out almost a whisper.

"What happened to this Claude?" He asked.

"He asked my hand in marriage, he was so sad. He said he had done many things wrong in his life, but I was the one thing he got right. He had always been haunted by something for he would cry out in sleep and I knew he had a horrible life. What he had done, I did not care, for I was in love. I couldn't refuse, so I said yes. Things were tight, but I still had my career as the Prima Ballerina in the Opera Populaire, so Claude and I wed. Well a bit after that, he began..."

_Meg waited nervously for the door to open. She had stolen some face paint from the make up department again, so she could cover the large purple bruise her right cheek adorned._ _She had been practicing her speech to her husband over and over, terrified of how he'd react. She continued to set the table, and make sure everything was in order. He'd stop, she was sure of it… after all; he'd have to when he learned that she was with his child. Slowly she placed her hand on her unharmed stomach. He had never punched her there, she had been lucky many times, for if he had, she was sure they would not be having this child._ _Just then she heard loud footprints drawing closer, from their infrequent pattern she could tell he had been drinking. Rushed she smoothed down the folds of her dress, and scurried over to the door. It was best not to keep him waiting._

Meg didn't continue, she couldn't tell him of all the abuse she suffered. She couldn't let him know that Claude was the reason she would be no longer a dancer, but a teacher. Slowly he looked over to her and saw the tears swell in her eyes. She could see it dawned on him that she was reliving something very traumatic. Taking her hand in his, he urged her to continue, but she refused to tell him the truth.

"He began to get... _withdrawn_. At first it was little things, the lack of money we were making, the stress of his job at work and my long hours. After awhile, he didn't seem the same man."

"_You stupid little bitch, did you really think I would believe that!" Claude screamed slapping Meg in the face once more. She could feel the blood in her mouth, the sting of her cheek, but she didn't remove her vice like grip on her own stomach, she refused to let him take that away from her._

"_You've been out whoring yourself, haven't you? You don't fucking dance for the money, you wiggle that tiny little body of yours! Who's is it Meg! Who's Aristocrats bastard child are you having?" He asked, throwing her to the ground._

"_It's yours Claude's," she sobbed in reply, "For Christ sake's its yours!"_

_He was quiet for a minute, like he was debating it. Her breathing was shallow, as she lay on the floor, and pain racked her entire frame, but still, he was quiet, and she knew that if she were to say anything now was her only chance._

"_I told you because I wanted you to know… You needed to know… Why you can't do this anymore, because we could loose our baby. But now… well now I know you'll never stop!"_

_Suddenly he groaned in rage, and stomped on her ankle as hard as possible. Screams tore from Meg's mouth, her large and muscular husband had broken her right ankle, and on purpose._ _Through the haze of agony and tears she looked up at him._

"_Fine, I'll leave you and your little bastard, tell them whatever you want… but know this, you'll never dance again." _

"… It was only after I found his body, that we knew why he was so withdrawnThe doctor told me it was consumption, and he had probably been trying to spare me the pain. It was too much to bear; he never was able to meet his son. I didn't dance for quite sometime and the instant I returned I broke my ankle by some careless accident. Since then it's been hard for me to continue on as the Prima Ballerina. A young woman named Dominique Lefleur took over while I had the baby, and since then we have been sharing the title of Prima Ballerina."

_When Meg woke, she was not sure what time it was, but that she had been out for quite some time. Her ankle screamed in pain and she looked down to see it bent at a peculiar angle. She called for him, begged that he help her to get to a doctor, but there was no answer. Knowing that it was such a tiny apartment, she crawled over to a wall, joining the two places. Strongly, she kept knocking. She could hear the people inside the other flat, but they continued to ignore her knock. She then crawled to the other wall and knocked. It wasn't long for the young man to knock on her door. _

"_Come in, please!" Meg cried exasperatedly. She wasn't surprised to see that he wasn't happy, but once he surveyed the situation, his look turned from annoyance to understanding. _

"_Where is he?" her neighbor demanded._

"_I don't know… please, Etienne, get me to a doctor, I beg of you." She said to her young acquaintance. _

_Nodding he rushed over to her crumpled form and helped her up._

"_Do you think he'll return?" Etienne asked her, angrily._

"_No… I honestly don't. He made sure he do enough damage as he could before he left." Meg moaned as the slowly walked down the hall._

"_Are you sure you just don't want me to run to the doctor's?" He asked her concerned._

"_No, because I'd hate to be wrong and have him come back." She admitted._

"_What if I take you to your mothers?" Etienne suggested._ "_Please… I would really appreciate that." Meg asked realizing it was only a block away compared to the five she'd have to walk to the doctor's._

"Maman was furious for my folly, but took me in after Claude left me. She nursed my ankle back to health and my baby to grow."

"_Will she ever dance again?" Antoinette Giry asked the doctor. _

"_Only time will tell, I've seen some recover from much worse injuries, but they were few. Statistically speaking, she will be able to dance again, but never the way she was able to before. Her ankle will always be handicapped."_

"_Thank you doctor." Madame Giry said as she escorted him to the door. Meg could hear them deliriously as they made their goodbyes and the doctor left. She forced her eyes to open when she felt her mother staring down at her once more._

"_He could have killed you." She stated._

"_I know." Meg replied._

"_Why didn't he? What made him stop?" her mother enquired._

"_I don't know the answer to that, I really don't. I saw it in his eyes, he didn't care about the child within me." She whispered. "Momma, I'm afraid, I'm afraid he'll come back and ruin everything… that he'll come back and finish what he started."_

"_That will NEVER happen." Antoinette stated, "I promise you, my Pearl, it will NEVER happen."_ _It was while her mother stroked her feverish head that she let herself be claimed by unconsciousness._

Meg sighed sadly, reliving those days and retelling the false story that she had for so many years. It had been the next morning her mother had returned and told her that she was now officially a 'widow'.

_"Don't tell them what happened Meg," _her mother had told her, "_it is amazing how easily lying to people can be." _

_Even to ourselves, _Meg thought.

Oh how she had missed Raoul, it was only after he left she realized her Maman had been right. Such advice would be forever lost in her death, Meg thought sadly.

Her mother had been an old mysterious one, with a soul like a bottomless pond, filled deep with secrets of others. It was then she remembered those last words her mother spoke before she perished.

_"Remember my child... things are not always as they seem. The Opera Ghost may be dead, but he lives on_." She had said._ "He has helped you more then you know, and always will, from beyond the grave. When the time comes, you will come to know Erik." _

_Erik? Who is Erik?_ Meg always had thought. _Was he someone else who knew the opera ghost?_  
_  
"You will have to make a choice between two truths, one falsified, and the other is absolute. Megan, my pearl, I love you, as I love Adrienne, I tried to give you a life my child, I only hope you do better then I." _She said proudly holding her daughters hand on her deathbed.

Those were some of the few words Meg still held dear to her heart. It was rare that her mother ever truly did praise her, and this was one of those times, she could tell the true feelings of her maman had come to show themselves.

"I am so sorry for your loss Meg, as you know I can fully understand the emptiness in your heart." Raoul said, brushing a curl out of her face.

She felt sick, the insides of her stomach twisted for the first time in years. She was so used to lying to everyone, it just rolled off the tip of her tongue. So why now, after all this time, did she feel guilty for lying? And above all, why could she not tell Raoul the truth about her sordid past?

( ' ) '  
-  
_  
**Passing bells  
and sculpted angels,  
cold and monumental,  
seem, for you,  
the wrong companions -  
you were warm and gentle . . .**_

Erik paid the driver and helped Danielle down, out of the carriage.

It was a dark night indeed, but the stars had decided to make a guest appearance by twinkling brightly overhead. Holding a small and gloved hand, rather tightly within his gloved hand, they walked through the gates of the cemetery and continued on their journey. It was the same cemetery that he had tried to steal Christine away in, over six years ago. Instead tonight, snow did not decorate the ground and tombs, but soft dew twinkled in rhythm to the bright star's waltz.

"Papa, why did we come here tonight? We came last week, did we not?" Danielle asked him, lifting her face to meet his gaze. So small she seemed in comparison to his six feet, and he had thought Christine to be small at five foot four.

"Yes my sweet, you are indeed right, but you see, tonight we are not here just to see your mother, I have someone else I must say goodbye, too." he said squeezing the small hand as he looked down into her eyes.

"Oh... I'm sorry papa, then may I go see maman by myself then?" She asked hopefully. Erik had never let her be by herself outside of the opera. He worried continuously over her safety and someone who had known Christine years before to make a connection. Erik hesitated, she was so young, but it was not like anyone was going to try to take her away from him in the dead of night. No one could possible be around this late and he was sure that he could remedy any situation if anyone ever harmed her. He would have to let her out of his sight one of these days.

"Do you know the way there?" He asked her a bit worried.

"Oh yes papa." She said already gently letting go of his hand and skipping a short distance away.

"I will be there in a moment Danielle, do NOT leave the presence of your mother's grave, alright?" He said sternly.

"Yes papa, I promise I won't." She said, calling back to him.

Erik smiled and watched her continue to skip away. Christine's grave was only a short distance from here anyway, it wasn't like he couldn't see her if he looked hard enough.

Turning around he took off the fedora that covered his head and looked down to the grave in front of his feet.

**GIRY  
1825-1887 **

"Well Madame, I see I outlasted you, hardly a fate I would of chosen years ago." He said to the stone in front of him.

"I am sorry I could not attend the service, however I'm sure it was full of reverence to this God fellow everyone speaks of highly. Surely you will be able to fill me in if he exists or not, you were always good at keeping me up to date." Slowly he knelt down and placed the flowers he picked up on the ride there from his home.

"You were a good confidante, my old friend; someone I trusted implicitly. I never told you that I forgave you for the night you helped the Vicomte into my home. After all, if you had not, I would have never had her, isn't she beautiful?" He asked and looked far off into the distance to see Danielle standing over a grave talking to herself.

"You always thought she was when you came to me. You were the only mother figure in her life for some time, and she loved your visits, however few and far between they were." He said looking back down to the ground.

"I need to apologize about Meg. I beg forgiveness from you that I could not find that damned husband of hers and kill him, even if it was to just bring truth to the lie we carefully concealed. And you were right, I daresay, I would never have harmed you. I don't think I could of after all that had happened. I promise I will keep an eye out for her, and her son, Adrienne was it? He is three now, yes? My, how time flies. I promise I will keep a look out for her and her son, as you would do for Danielle if anything ever happened to me."

"Goodbye, Antoinette Giry, I hope that whatever awaits you is peaceful, and though I do doubt your God exists, I hope that your beloved father Aiden, and your mother Suzette is there. We both know that Percival, will not, no matter what deity you believe in." He said respectfully and bowed to the grave. He thought of her small stories that she would tell Danielle about her father and mother. He remembered the one story he told her about her own angry and abusive husband. It felt right to mention them to her, to show that he had listened to every word. Reluctantly he replaced the hat on his head and turned swiftly to walk towards Christine's resting place. As he drew closer he could hear Danielle's conversation to her mother.

"Papa misses you very much, too. Yesterday, I saw him sitting again by his organ not playing. I know when he does that he is thinking of you, because he once told me that I sing like you." She paused for a moment, and then continued, "Sometimes I really wish I knew you, knew what you looked like. I cannot lie and say I miss you, but I wish I could."

Erik took this opportunity to step out of the shadows and come to the girl's side.

"Are you almost finished, little angel?" He asked her, approaching her side.

"Yes papa, we can go if you like." She said taking his slim hand in her own.

Erik looked down at the tombstone that they were standing in front of. Even in death, Raoul had pampered her. A headstone made completely of marble with an angelic statue gracing the top was his last gift to her, his best. He thought it was suitable for the woman he loved, something that Raoul for once, got right.

**Christine de Chagny **

**1860-1883 **

**Loving wife and mother. **

Gently Erik kissed the statue and took a step back. He quickly fought back the tears that threatened to fall as the two lonely souls slowly began their trek back to the gates where they would be picked up by the cab.

"Did you have a good talk with your mother?" Erik asked Danielle indulging her a little.

"Oh yes, and you with your friend?" She asked.

"Indeed, what did you and she talk about?" He asked amused.

"Well, she agreed with me it's absurd you still wear the mask."

"Now Danielle..."

"But papa, I see no need for you to hide your face." She stated. "I have seen your face many times before, I do not fear it."

"You may say that Danielle, but you may not mean it." He said bitterly.

"Oh papa, when will you ever learn, I love you for..." The young girl said but Erik stopped dead in his tracks, no longer were they alone.

"Papa what is..."

"Shush..." he gestured and then led her covertly into the shadows by a tree.

Quickly, without thinking, he wrapped himself and Danielle within the darkness of his black cloak. It was then he saw the figure of a man come into sight. Instinctively, he leaned his weight against the trunk of the tree that they were taking shelter under.

He took this opportunity to relax, for he knew they would not be noticed. Nevertheless, if they made the slightest sound all it would take was some careful searching, and Dani and he would be found.

It would be even worse if the person were who Erik thought it was.

As though the man had heard Erik's thoughts, he turned slightly, showing enough of himself to confirm Erik's worst fear. It was like seeing a ghost emerge out of time to live again. It had been five years, five years and three months since he had seen that face. There had been a time when he had feared the power the Vicomte held over him. Raoul was someone with an inferior mind, and yet the young man always had the uncanny ability of taking the most precious things away from him.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Too many years  
fighting back tears . . .  
Why can't the past  
just die . . .?** _

When Madame Giry had visited him four years ago, the fear that Erik harbored about Raoul had diminished upon hearing of his departure.

He had been dressing Danielle who had been fourteen months at the time, when he heard her calling on the other side of the lake.

"Monsieur le phantom! I know you're still down here; I saw you five months ago stalking the halls." She said nervously.

Erik sighed and looked down at the small baby smiling up at him. He could certainly call the old woman's bluff, for he knew there was no way she would have been able to cross the icy cold lake without the boat, but the fear in her voice pulled on his empathy strings. She had done so many things for him in her time; why not return the favor once more? After all, he had a child now to care for, what if something tragic happened. He needed at least one contact in the outside world.

"Erik?" She called helplessly and he struggled with what he was going to do. Should he leave Danielle here? Or should he take her with him? He decided it best to put her in her crib and be as quick as possible.

Doing just that, he swiftly grabbed the monkey music box and left it in her crib. He then rushed to the door of his home, and not even taking the time to put on a cloak, he quickly rowed over to the distressed woman who was looking for him.

"No fancy appearances tonight?" She asked calmly with a coy smile.

"No need Madame Giry, for what is the point in haunting if no one believes in ghosts?" He asked as he helped her into the small craft.

The row over was a quiet one, for Erik was preoccupied with getting back to the house as soon as possible and Madame Giry was trying to figure out how to word her dilemma. Damn Meg ever getting mixed-up with that Claude! Now she was here, with Erik, the infamous opera ghost, trying to fix things up. As they arrived on the other side of the shore, she managed to pull herself out of the boat and wait for him to guide her inside.

He did so with subtle grace and ease making her wonder why he had been so silent as O.G. for so long.

"You seem to be quite cold Mme, would you care for some tea?" he asked briskly.

"No, I want to make this brief as possible, you see..."

Suddenly a small cry came from the bedroom.

"What was that?" Mme Giry's ear's perked.

"Nothing," was Erik's hasty reply only to have another, louder cry follow.

"I distinctly heard something Monsieur le phantom!" Mme Giry protested.

Annoyed and knowingly caught, Erik swept by her and headed towards Danielle's room.

Upon entering he found her standing up in her cradle waiting for attention.

"Can you ever be quiet?" he asked her defeated, only to have her giggle and pull off his mask. "Erik! Mask!" she giggled.

"Not now, we have company," He mumbled and put her down to replace his mask. Finally, picking her up, he retreated back to the den to find a stunned Mme Giry.

"That... that..." She stammered.

"Is a child? Yes, I presume it is." He said holding Danielle close.

Angrily, Mme Giry advanced. "What is she doing down here? In a place like this?"

"She is being raised by me, it was Christine's last request, God knows why she would ever entrust her child to me." He said looking down at the soft curls of the fourteen-month-old girl in his arms.

"You mean, that is the de Chagny heir, their only child?" She said growing pale and placing her hand to her throat.

"WAS the de Chagny child Madame, was, now she is Erik's child…"

"ERIK!" Danielle squealed pleasantly.

"Yes dear, Erik's child, one who is properly taken care of." He said frustrated, why was everyone always so judgmental? _Sure I've had killed a few in my time, but not with good reason!_ He mused.

"That is not your child Erik, she belongs with her father! Unless..." She said growing paler.

"Unless you were the culprit behind the estate fire." She said backing up in fear.

"Oh, for the love of... No! How typical! How ignorant of you," he spat.

"Of me?" she asked taken back.

"Yes, you! I cannot begin to fathom that you of all people would think I would harm the one thing I held dearest. I would never harm a hair on Christine's head and you knew that. I let her go, I watched her like a hawk for one whole year, never jeopardizing my hiding place, never harming anyone. I watched her die!" He yelled tears filling his eyes.

Danielle began to make a whimpering noise like she did when she was about to cry, making Erik hush and calm her.

"I apologize little angel, I didn't mean to scare you, hush, dearest Danielle." He said stroking her back till she rested her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. She wrapped her chubby arms around his neck in response.

"I watched her die, Mme Giry," He continued on a softer note, "I tried to save her, but the beam was too heavy. I didn't want to leave her, but she begged me to save Danielle." He said looking down at the baby in his arms.

"Well you did Erik, and you have done a wonderful job so far, but she belongs to the Vicomte, it's time to take her back." She said stepping forward towards Danielle.

Erik panicked; no one was going to take her away from him. Quickly, he stepped out of Giry's grasp and walked to the other side of the room. He tried to control the feeling of murderous rage he had controlled for almost two years that was beginning to boil.

"I said I haven't hurt anyone in a year, and I would hate for that to change Madame Giry." He said looking at her with dark eyes.

"You wouldn't dare." She said nervously.

"Only if you try to take this child away from me, yes. I would hate to have to, however nothing is going to separate us, not that abhorrent Vicomte, not even you." He said looking down yet again at the precious girl in his arms.

"Even if I took her back, she wouldn't go to Raoul." The older woman said relaxing her posture and sighed, she held out her arms in a gesture of holding Danielle, and at first Erik hesitated.

"Why? Has that drunken stupor I have heard rumors of finally got the best of him?" He asked cynically. Although he knew deep down inside that if he did not have Danielle to care for, he would of dealt with Christine's death in the same fashion.

"Maybe, I wouldn't know: he left for America six months ago." She said, which made Erik relax enough for Giry to hold Danielle.

"Well then, what brings you to my humble abode?" He asked sarcastically.

"It's about Meg," She said, sitting on the divan.


	31. Full of Grace

**AN - **I decided I'm going to give Etienne a larger part as well, he was not originally going to be a very large character, but because the third book's title is going to be called "A spider's web woven" and be all about relationships, adding one more character to befuddle the whole freaking thing is a welcome addition.

Thank you for the well recieved response for last chapter, I tried to bulk this one up as well so that it was a worthy read, I just want to get the middle book done in 15 chapters, so I can focus on the last one. Things are starting to change drastically from the original post of this story, so this is where I would expect old readers to start noticing.

I also finally fixed chapter 27, 28 and 29 because they were all messed up. I have no idea WHY but let me tell you that was a two hour process, recovering, trying to rewrite and so-forth. I would definately reread chapter 29 because it's had some minor additions. I appoligize to any of you who did not get to read a chapter that was missing for some time.

on a less serious note, did anyone go check out my count dude? has anyone ever noticed that Prince's - Batdance has NOTHING to do with batman other then the quotes? Does it disturb you to know that my boyfriend sounds exactly like prince when he says 'oooh yah... oooh yah... I wanna bust that body.'

Only when he's singing to the song...

REVIEW TIME

**I Despise Raoul****-** thank you for fixing my mistake, I sometimes let my fingers type faster then my brain can think. Tell Erik those are my favourite panties and if he does not return them post haste,a disaster beyond HIS imagination willoccur.

**soccernat11**- only time will tell

**The Psychotic One**-I was so happy with both your reviews. I have tried very hard to keep my spelling mistakes down to nothing and use proper grammar, I'm finally, at 19 learning to use than instead of then when it need be. Remember, this use to be a story of 32 chapters with 35,000 words. Now it's up to 30 chapters, and 81,000 words. Three years really makes a difference. I can ASSURE you it was NEVER my intention for Danielle and Erik to get together, I can say that I was going to hint at it in a dream sequence by Erik, only to have him awake and be HORRIFIED at the dream, only because I know what it's like to have those dreams about family members, and usually they have nothing to do with sex. Plus, it would be a great set up to mess with people's heads.

Meg's a good girl, she's gonna get sturdy like her mother, you just watch, the third book is really my maximum opus. I want to screw up the characters so much that everyone feels pity for every person to some degree, and hates everyone to another. I think those are the best kinda characters.

**Mini Nicka**- Thanks for your support, I love how you review everytime you can.

**Computerfreak101**- There there dear, without claude there would be no adrienne, and without raoul there would be no danielle.

**PhantomFan13**- doubt it's the best after you've read Fraternite, or possibly Eternity of This, Dance and Deamons are also very very well written. Deamons and Fraternite are possibly my most favourites.

**

* * *

**

Chapter Thirty: Full of Grace

_**Try to forgive . . .  
teach me to live . . .**_

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two days since my last confession." Meg silently told the priest, as she held her rosemary.

"Only two days, my child? What could you have done that causes you to confess so soon?" he asked her bemused, the voice all too familiar.

"I've broken the eighth commandment by willingly telling a lie."

"Is this the same lie, we have discussed before, my child?" he asked her seriously.

"Yes, it is…" she closed her eyes tightly, hating herself for her devotion to her religion.

"Under the circumstances, I have told you, as long as you repent every time for this lie with the same penance I gave you years ago, you do not have to come to me." He told her, his smooth and gentle voice washing away her hate.

"It's not just that father, for I have broken the ninth commandment." She told him, knowing all too well what his reaction would be. If only it had been the lie, she wouldn't be here right now, in this uncomfortable position.

"Is it he, who you repentant for as well, years ago?" he asked her, pained.

"Yes Father, it is he, Raoul. My best friend's widow." She laughed bitterly and let her tears fall onto her rosemary.

"… It has been a long time since you have thought on him." He responded quietly.

"Father, he returned…." She explained, why she felt the need to make an excuse, she didn't know, there was no excuse for it.

"My child, do you do this act willingly?" He asked

"No, Father, it just came to me, when I saw him… he was at my mothers funeral." She told him, leaning against the wall for comfort.

"I have told you, you need not come if the act isn't a willful thing…" He explained, clearing his throat. Meg could tell this was uncomfortable for him as well.

"But, it hasn't stopped till I've seen him!" She cried.

"Your mother's service was today, was it not? How many times have you committed this sin?" was his inquiry.

"Father, have you not heard me? Only once… but it has been continuous, a burning sensation within since he laid his eyes upon me," she felt the hot tears fall along with her veil of innocence. She was ashamed of her desires, her love for someone that did not belong to her. There was silence from the priest on the other side of the confessional.

"I beg your pardon Father, I hadn't meant too…" she started.

"Does he know this time?" He interrupted her, she could hear the tinge of anger in his voice, the betrayal that could not be helped.

"No, I'm sure he doesn't. He still talks of Christine as though they were betrothed just yesterday. No… he'll always love her." She said, trying to convince herself more than her priest.

"Again, my child, I see no need to give you penance…" he told her, his voice once again calm. She could hear his anguish, but his absolute forgiveness.

"Father, I'm not asking you for your forgiveness, but for God's." She told him honestly.

"Meg, I'm not taking my feelings…" He began indignantly.

"Etienne!" she cried, appalled by his slip into informal conversation.

There was silence from his side, he obviously was angry with himself for the slip as well, or he just was taking a moment to regain his composer. She hated that this was how they ended up, she hated herself for not being able to love him, but she had learned from Claude one thing, to not deny her feelings, it only got worse when she did.

"Please say an act of contrition." She heard him whisper to her. Obediently she recited the words, at ease that he let her continue on with her confession.His lovely voice was void of any emotion as he told her to recite four Hail Mary's, two Nicene Creed's, and one Glory Be for penance.

"I absolve thee, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

**( ' ) '  
- **

**_You understand your instructions?_**

Erik watched as the Vicomte place flowers on the grave adorned by the graceful marble angel. Subconsciously, he held Danielle close in his arms finding the terror within himself, that he hadn't felt since Christine had found him while giving birth.

It's amazing how things change when you have something to lose, he thought stroking the girl's curls.

Slowly, he looked down to see how she was reacting to the scene that was being performed in front of her. She was still in his arms, holding his hand as she watched the Vicomte intently. Feeling Erik's eyes on her, she looked up at him questioningly. He put a slim finger to his lips he told her to continue her silence, and they both went back to watching Raoul stand above Christine's grave.

_"Meg?" Erik had asked watching apprehensively as Madame Giry continued to rock Danielle back and forth. He had briefly forgotten Madame Giry's daughter, the one that had played such a small but integral role to the story. She was Christine's only confidant, her best friend. She had been the one to find his mask when he ran from the cellars to the surface. _

"Yes my daughter, surely you haven't forgotten the child..."

"No.. no, I was merely… I beg your pardon Madame, please proceed." He said sitting beside her on the divan and playing with Dani's feet. She giggled and kicked back at his hands. Erik smirked, like the deviant he was, and continued to tickle and hold the small girls feet.

"I would have come to you sooner, if it were not for that blasted husband of hers." She muttered looking at the interaction between the ghost in front of her and the child in her arms. It was obvious to her, that they belonged to each other, their love being as pure and innocent as the hair on the child's head. It wasn't a promise, or a belief; it was a fact, something absolute.

If she didn't know any better, she would of thought him a harmless, carefree father, just as dependant on the child as she was of him. Then the images of the Piangi's broken neck and Joseph's broken body, made her shudder as she worried about the future of a child that loved a murder without hesitation.

_"You see, she finally ended up getting married." She said trying to reclaim his attention away from the tiny feet of Danielle. _

She was not successful however, for he continued to look at the small girl in her arms. "Congratulations Madame Giry, I'm sure she has made you proud, I would of gotten them a gift if I had..."

"Oh no, it's not made me proud at all!" She said giving back to him abruptly and standing up so she had room to pace. The swift action had caught him off guard.

"Then, what did you feel?" He asked the frustrated woman in front of him as calmly as he could. She had attracted his attention and he felt compelled to pay it to her.

"I did, at first. Please understand at first, I tried to be happy for her. I was not exactly happy she was marrying someone as, how should I put it?"

"In words Madame Giry, your own preferably, no need to euphemize." Erik told her, looking softly into eyes so that she felt at ease speaking with him.

"Well Monsieur le Phantome, to be frank, I hated Claude from the moment I saw him."

He would of chuckled and asked her if that wasn't how she felt towards everyone she met, however he could tell in her stature she had a reason to.

"That incorrigible little bastard! He charmed his way into her life and ruined it. I knew right from the first time we met he was going to be trouble. No it wasn't his status, who am I to judge on such a thing? Meg nor I are indeed high society, yet I had a feeling." Her angry rant slowed and her cheeks flushed.

"I beg your pardon, I shouldn't say such things in front of the child." She whispered.

"Although I admit, I have never heard you speak in such fashion, I cannot condemn you. After all, we both know there are many things worse than speaking open-mindedly? Do we not?" He asked. Danielle took this opportunity to snatch the mask away from his face leaving him naked in front of his guest.

"Damn it, Danielle." He muttered frustrated as he tried to gently take his mask out of the small hands of the giggling child in his lap.

"Mask! Erik!" she cried giggling.

He looked towards Madame Giry who had turned away from the sight of his face. Whether she did it to make him feel more comfortable or to spare herself the horror, he did not know.

"Monsieur le Phantome, this is your home, do not feel obligated to wear that in my presence." She said calmly turning to face him. Her eyes showed no fear, no great horror that his face would reflect. She was either excellent at keeping her stomach down or she was being sincere.

"I wear it because it is apart of me." He stated numbly, "We all wear masks Madame Giry, I just choose to wear mine externally. Please continue." He told her, fastening it into place. He made a mental not he would have to start using soft leather straps to keep it on, just as his mother had. He had gotten so used to the spirit glue the opera kept, but Danielle's insistence at removing the object was making it hard for him to see otherwise.

"Yes, well. At first I thought he might prove me wrong, he was always fawning over her and being so wonderful to her. It wasn't until I saw her after rehearsal one day." She said, slipping into the memory, and sitting in the chair across him.

"She was taking off her ballet shoes and the shoulder of her dress fell, revealing a nasty bruise, I did not say a thing, merely looked upon the mark, horrified. As I told you before, I know that life style all to well." She said, closing her eyes to keep the tears from falling.

Erik's heart went out to her, for he knew of her struggle and how her husband himself had once beaten her. Percival had been an alcoholic who drunk himself into a blind stupor one night and walked in front of a carriage. She had once opened up to him when they had casually met in box five that she was thankful everyday Meg was a baby when he died.

He felt the back of his neck begin to burn in the familiar manner it did when he was upset. His fingers began to tingle and he realized he had the urge to break something, anything whether it was a neck or a vase. He would of most likely, if it weren't for Danielle still being in his arms.

"I sense you have not finished Madame, please carry on." He said icily through his teeth.

"Right, yes. After that day I would pay attention closer to her, and how she hid her scars. Scarves over her neck, large bracelets sometimes donned her wrists. Finally it got so bad that she would let her hair down and in front of her face. For the first time in twenty years I felt helpless, utterly out of control. I could not approach her, I could not save her, I had not even been able to save myself when it was happening to me." She said finally relenting her strict and stubborn façade to allow her tears to fall.

Erik got up and put Danielle in her arms, he was afraid of the strong desire in him to hurt something, and he didn't want Danielle near him. It was not because he feared hurting her however, but he worried he would frighten her.

Slowly he walked over to the fire that was cackling loudly. He clenched and unclenched his fists, remembering that he had always had a soft spot for the blonde haired, bubbly young woman who was the complete opposite of her mother.

To hear all of this now was creating an itch he could not scratch, a tingling sensation he had hidden for what seemed to be years. He knew that he had controlled it longer before, however, could his willpower hold up under this assault?

"Finally she came to me today, in my arms I received her, and in my arms she wept. 'I am pregnant maman,' she had whispered, 'and I do not want to live'. She knew I had known all along, I saw it when she looked up at me with pleading eyes. "I was a fool, I told him about the baby, thinking he'd stop. He'd be happy to have a child, and that maybe I could teach him to love again over the nine months of peace. Instead, what do I have to show, two black eyes and a broken ankle. ' My heart skipped a beat at those words, to know that she had broken free of her chains instead of waiting until they are broken for her by death. Like my chains that I never spoke to her of, her fathers abuse. It was then I realized why she still had come to me. 'I fear my child will grow up being called a bastard, I do not want for it to be ridiculed and treated poorly because I could no longer live like that,' She had said to me."

Erik listened as she stifled a sob and Danielle began to whimper threatening everyone in the room that she was about to cry. He slowly closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the hate that had welled in his heart while he imagined Christine.

"I always loved you Erik, I always will... Thank you for loving me Erik... I am honored and proud to be the one loved by you. Remember that, remember what I have said... remember... everything..."_ he heard her voice whisper in his memory. _

He kept that locked away in his heart every time he felt as though his world was to collapse. He would remember her strength in those final moments and use it as his strength to carry on, to be the man she had seen within him.

He turned his face away from the fire and gradually walked towards Madame Giry who was trying to calm the fussy Danielle in her lap.

"Here, let me take her for you." He said picking up his little angel and began to softly sing to her until she was asleep in his arms. Without a word he left the den and placed the sleeping child within her bassinet.

Swiftly he returned to the den area where a defeated Madame Giry awaited him.

"Your wonderful with her Erik, she truly loves you."

"You would think as much wouldn't you? Please continue on about Megan."

"That is really all Erik, I told her to leave everything to me, and rushed out of the apartment. I walked for a good long hour before realizing there was only one person in this world who could help, who would care enough too." She said wiping the tears from her eyes and trying to maintain her crisp disguise.

"I do not know what to say, where do you think he went?" Erik asked knowing what Madame Giry was asking for.

"It was a surprise, he even left. When Meg woke up, he was gone. Neither of us have any idea where he would have gone too." She said coolly, completely back to how she had been when she had greeted him.

"Are you sure you want this? If I find him, and the deed is done, there is no turning back Madame Giry. I am certainly damned for eternity; I have already made peace with my demons. Are you sure that you want to get involved in something that is against your religion? You and Meg are such devote Catholics." He asked her.

She sat there for a long moment, both waiting in silence for an answer to such a difficult question. He stood over her, listening to the cacophony of silence that invaded his home, such a sound he hated.

"I think it is time for me to head back now Monsieur le Phantome," She finally said.

"Alright, I shall get your cloak Madame." He responded getting it and holding it out for her as she trailed behind.

Gently he placed it on her shoulders and followed her out the door of the home. The ride across the lake was as deafening silent as the awkward pause in the house. Erik focused on rowing as quickly as he could across the lake so he could get back to Danielle.

"What do I tell her?" She finally asked him when he had finished helping her out of the boat and pulled away from the shore.

"Tell her, tell her to tell everyone she is a widow."

**( ' ) '  
-**

_**Masquerade!  
**__**Run and hide -  
**__**but a face will  
**__**still pursue you!**_

As Meg exited the church in haste, she could feel Etienne running behind her, running after her, always running towards her, always trying to catch her.

_"When will he learn he will be better off if he just lets me go?"_ Meg wondered.

As she reached the large wooden doors of the cathedral and through them open, she felt his hand on her shoulder and he whirl her around. The Paris air filled her lungs, it's humidity thick, but it had not rained yet. Etienne stared into her soul with his dark brown eyes, his brow furrowed in woe, as he wrapped his arms around the young Madame Verrau dit Giry. She buried her head into the warmth of his shoulder, feeling nothing more than the safety of Etienne's strong arms.

"I am sorry I wasn't there for your mother's service, I had other business to attend too." Etienne whispered into the folds of her hair.

Meg woke from her daze of warmth, "She would have understood, she was one to keep a strict schedule." She told him, pulling out of the embrace. Etienne looked hesitant to let her go, leaving his arms resting on her shoulders.

"Etienne they will see." Meg begged.

"Let them see, I do not answer to their biased view of appropriateness, I only answer to god." He told her indignantly.

"But I don't, I answer to them just as I do you." She explained, taking his hands in hers and gently removing them from her.

His eyes clouded over in understanding, and she bemused on how she may not have been able to love him, but she did adore his eyes. It was a curse to read them so well, to know that Etienne would have been happier if he had never met her. Why had he loved her so? She had no idea; she had been nothing special, except for a broken ballerina. He had loved her after she had been beaten and left pregnant by her husband. Even then, after his generosity and careful devotion, she could not give the man what he wanted. She had always claimed it was because she was still married to her first husband, and that they would be committing bigamy. Etienne had tried and tried until she finally told him that it would never happen, even if they found Claude dead, she would never marry another, that she would always love another. She did not see him again until she found him, serving god. He always told her that it was what he wanted, that he had found the light, and that he was content with the love that filled his heart for god.

But his eyes told her differently.

"He is back." He stated, not really expecting an answer.

"It doesn't matter Etienne, nothing will ever come from it."  
**  
( ' ) '  
- **

_Give me the strength  
to try . . ._

"I told Meg of how I came back for you and Danielle. How I had a lead on your murderers. I will find who ever did this Christine. I will not rest until justice has been served in the name of our daughter and yourself." He whispered.

Slowly he closed his eyes, so that he could not let the tears fall. After all these years he still felt weak at the knees near this grave, but he knew that he needed to be strong.

"I stopped drinking, I know you would be proud. I realized that it was not going to bring her back, or you for that matter. I realized that you didn't leave me purposely either. I apologize for feeling that; I know you didn't die to spite me. I loved you so much Christine, I would of given you the world if you so desired. I don't think you really wanted the world though, I fear you wanted the moon; the moon and the night." He finished and leaned in to graze his fingers along her name.

"You left so quickly Christine," his voice cracking, tears streaming down his face. A sobbed caused his body to shudder and he looked down at his feet before looking back at the name he was talking to. "Yet I fear I lost you long before. That is why I still ache so badly. That is why I cannot get passed this feeling of being utterly lost."

"I don't know if Meg comes to visit, did you know she has a son? He is beautiful Christine, simply astounding. I plan on seeing more of him. I have decided I hope to be apart of his life as a male confidant, a male figure of some sort. Whether he needs a funny uncle, a doting father, a benefactor, I want to be there for him. I want to do something that I know you would do. Something at least you can be proud of me for." He said straightening, finding the resolve within himself to carry on.

"I suppose I shall visit more often now that I am back in Paris. I believe you know that Philippe will soon be with you as well, another reason why I have returned to Paris. Soon I will no longer be the Vicomte de Chagny, and instead the Comte himself. Imagine that? Even without you I have created a scandal for myself, I presume it was fate that I did." Slowly he rose from his kneeled position and kissed the angel above.

"Christine, I love you." He finished and walked away into the night.

**( ' ) '  
-**

_**Sometimes it seemed  
if I just dreamed,  
somehow you would  
be here . . .**_

Erik finally released the breath he was holding. When did the Vicomte get back? How long was he going to stay? What was to become of him? All these questions and more were running through Erik's mind when he remembered Danielle in front of him.

"Dani?" He softly whispered to her, as he realized all her body weight was leaning into him.

"Hmm?" She said sleepily while he picked her up into his arms. She was asleep, he realized, which was not a complete surprise for it was past her bedtime. If the Vicomte had not been there then they would have been home by now.

"Papa I'm cold." She whispered sleepily.

"I know little angel, I will get us home." He said quietly in her ear as he continued to think.

What was going to happen, he did not know. Although he was certainly glad that Danielle fell asleep when she did, for now he didn't have to go through the painstaking process of explaining that the man they had watched was her true father. That technically she belonged with Raoul, and not in his arms right now.

Thoughtfully he looked down at the precious gift in his arms. What would he do if she asked him that? What could he possibly say? There had been a time when she said that she chose him as her Papa. However one day that might change, maybe one day she will want her papa to be someone else, and surely then the pain would kill him. The pain of loosing her would destroy what remaining love he had left, and he would be forever void. She was the only reason he continued his struggle of life.

What had he been thinking? One day she might even ask why there is a tomb behind her mothers with her name as well on it. What would he tell her of that? Why had he not thought of these things years ago, so that he had time to prepare? Why had he not thought of these things while Madame Giry was still around to give him friendly advice?

Even if he had not killed in years, that did not mean that he was pardoned of all his past crimes. In fact, he did not even know if he would of been capable of killing Audric if he found him. However, none of that meant that if Danielle found out she would continue to love him.

As they existed the Cemetery gates he knew one thing for sure, as much as he still loved her, he would never visit Christine's grave again.


	32. Why?

**AN -** longest chapter EVER. Not to mention the end of the second part/book whatever you wanna call it.

reivews

**PucktoFaerie**- Claude is not dead, but Meg is lying to everyone. Etienne is her priest, and he was there, so he helps her perpetuate her lies. Did I spell perpetuate right? Damn it... Anyways, no I didn't take it offensively, I just try to reply to reviews as generically as possible so there's no fighting. I've seen was flame wars have done to good work or bad work, but it doesnt matter, all work is above that. I'm glad you like the story, and I appreciate you telling me, cuz when you do, I go back and fix it, probably making it more interesting to new readers.

**Everyone else - **I love you guys, but I'm not going to respond to EVERY review every time anymore... It has nothing to do with personally snubbing anyone, I just feel that if your not really asking anything then there's no point in responding, and if you are asking something, then sometimes it can be cleared up by reading... if you are confused or need anything add please respond to your review... oh man... what am I doing, you guy's aren't whiny little kids, you don't need to be coddled, I'm totally being demeaning.

Sorry guys, I'm sure you got the point... and don't forget, I always appreciate you guy reviewing. ALWAYS, no matter WHAT you say. For some reason I gage a review as a 'hit' to your story, if someone's not reviewing or at least reviewed once, then the probably don't like it.

But I'm crazy like that.

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Chapter Thirty-One: Why?

**Hide our sword now wounded knight,  
your vainglorious gasconade  
brought you to your final fight  
for your pride, high price you've paid!**

"Uncle Raoul." Adrienne called as he ran towards the man who was standing at the front door of the small and modest flat.

"Adrienne what have I told you about calling the Vicomte uncle?" Meg said to her son as she took one last glance in the mirror, before following behind him.

"That will be all Fleur," she called down to the servant who was still holding the door open for Raoul.

Meg looked at the man in front of her doorframe. Time does many things to men, but it did very little to Raoul. Suddenly a flash of memory halted her tracks.

**_"But Meg, it's a silly little thing that I want to keep secret!" Christine giggled and airily flew down the stairs. _**

**_"When have you ever kept a secret from me, come on Christine, just tell me." The girl begged behind her, equally as faerie-like._**

Other then the pain filled eyes that held dark memories of the past, no one could tell how many years had gone by since his first arrival to the opera Garnier.

Sighing shakily, she began to walk down the long hall of the flat and thought of how she looked. She had been putting her hair into a fashionable bun, but Raoul had shown rather early, so she hadn't the time to place it all up, thus it was falling everywhere around her.

**_"It's vain." Christine explained with flush in her cheeks._ **

**"**_**We all can be vain sometimes Christine, as long as you repent it." Meg told her, hoping to get her to tell her. ** _

**"Alright, alright, but promise to not tell anyone!"**

**"Not a soul…." Meg squealed, holding up her hands in protest.**

Today was a day off from her trying schedule of work and she planned to spend it with her son. This meant most likely a trip to the park and many hours running around, all over the neighborhood and in the apartment, so she had worn her modest, blue day dress which was Adrienne's favorite.

"Oh Meg, you know I told him to call me so a long time ago." He said picking up the young boy at his feet. Adrienne's blonde curls bounced as he laughed at the sudden change of altitude. Raoul watched as Meg continue to walk down the hall towards him. He waited for a reaction to his undermining of her parenting. She was usually a little rigid when he did so, but today he noticed she wasn't really paying attention. Instead, she seemed to have a lost, dream-like countenance on her face.

_**Christine looked at her warily, searching Meg's earnest face all while sharing a shy grin. ** _

**"Do you remember when Sorelli compared me to a dog? When she told me that I would have troll's and monster's in love with me forever?" Christine whispered.**

**"I remember… she used to leave spiders and other disgusting things for you to find, and cry out 'another suitor for miss Christine Daaé!'" Meg returned and held her hands up to her mouth to stop from smiling.**

**"YES! I forgot! And she always was soooo smug when attractive boys took a small notice of her, it was though they were BEGGING her for her hand in marriage!" they giggled in unison**.

"Happy birthday little one, I brought you a present." Raoul said looking away from the beautiful woman in front of him, who never smiled, and now at Adrienne who was still being held.

"Really? You remembered! How wonderful, may I see?" Adrienne said squirming as if his Uncle Raoul was hiding the present behind his back. He rarely got new toys, yet he did not mind to terribly much. He had his maman, and she loved him very much. Although he was young, he knew that she did the best she could with what they had. He was always provided for, they lived decently enough, and he still had his friend, Fleur that helped his mother out.

"Hold your horses young man, it is not proper for a gentlemen to be so impatient." Raoul said continuing to laugh at the squirming young boy.

"I tell him everyday it's a virtue but does he listen, no. Hello Raoul." Meg said, finally approaching Raoul. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

Blushing he looked at Meg to see if she noticed. He thought of fondly how her hair was stunning down like that, it almost reminded him of...

**_"Christine, just tell me please!" Meg begged. _**

**_"Well, you must know that I know it's a sin, but I simply can't help it." Christine replied, earnestly._**

**_"Oooh… sinful secrets! Do tell!" Meg said, her eyes flickering with excitement. Christine gave her a hestitant look, before indulging._**

**_"I love that one day, I can do nothing but be happy and content with Raoul, and just... be around Sorelli and it will just eat her alive that I have the most handsome and rich husband in the opera." _**

_**"Christine! That's showing off!" Meg gasped, then smiled defiantly, "I simply adore it!"** _

He didn't realize it, but she was blushing under his eyes. He became aware of why she was blushing as well. She had not been that forward since she was younger. Lately she had been prim and proper like her mother, and that had been a lapse in her demeanor. Their eyes met and for a brief moment, they shared a moment of understanding about the child in his arms.

Raoul then put him down so that he could take the present from his pocket.

"Happy fifth birthday Adrienne." He smiled.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Those who hear your voice  
liken you to an angel...**  
_

"Papa I do not feel well." Danielle said coming into her father's room as he was playing on the massive organ. It was new music for once, making the child wonder if he was composing a new opera. He usually asked for her advice on certain arias when in a good mood, and she loved to watch him sit there wrapped up completely in the score in front of him.

"What is wrong little angel?" he said turning on the stood as the seven-year-old dizzily walked into his room. He had been working on the new opera he was trying to write.

Trying to, was the operative word, he had no muse for it what so ever. Things were not like they use to be, where he would sit down and write for pleasure, or as a way to escape the chains of this existence. Now he wrote so he could continue to provide in the somewhat lavish lifestyle he had grown accustom too. He knew he also did it for Danielle, and yet, deep down he knew that if they lived out in the country, or a small apartment in the city she would not care. She had the ability to make the best out of any situation.

He had stopped his career as the opera ghost years ago, and the money had not yet begun to dwindle, but that didn't mean that it would last forever. He needed to have some source of income still.

"I don't know." She said foggily and he would have ran to her side if he didn't remember he must give her a chance to make her way to him. He was always reminding himself not to smother her, that she was a flower who needed to grow.

"I feel very odd." She said approaching him.

Carefully he placed his cool hand on her head only to find its temperature was quite high. On a normal day, her smooth forehead would be warm under his icy fingers. Fingers that she had grown accustomed too. Yet, today, he could tale by her pale features and hazed eyes that a fever had taken her.

"Oh my dear Dani, perhaps you should lie down." He said getting up from the stood he had been sitting on and picking her up. _These days of carrying her around will soon end … cherish them while you still can._

"Alright Papa, will you lie with me? Please?" She asked as her burning head came in contact with his shoulder and neck and he placed his on top of it.

_How could she be sick? How could you let this happen?_ He asked himself. If you weren't so damn caught up in that disgrace of an opera you were writing, maybe you would have seen this coming.

"I will, once I make a remedy for that fever of yours," He said as he opened her bedroom door and placed her on the lavish bed that once held her mother in the state she was in.

"Promise?" she said sleepily rolling to her side so she could see him before he left and closed the door behind himself.

"I promise Danielle."

( ' ) '  
-

_**Makes you glad,  
makes you proud  
All the crème de la crème...**  
_

Adrienne sat playing with the model horse that Raoul had brought him as a present.

"I still say it was too much." Meg said quietly watching her son play with the expensive looking figure. She secretly loved it when Adrienne was given nice things, but she didn't want her son to get spoiled, nor feel dependant on Raoul.

Deep down, she still remembered when he walked out of her life five and a half years ago and was waiting for the incident to happen again. She could not depend on anyone, except herself. Now, there was a new problem, she feared Raoul had overlooked. Adrienne adored her friend like a father and would call him so, if he didn't already get in enough trouble for calling him uncle.

What was she to do? She never wanted Adrienne to feel what she felt when Raoul left her. She didn't want her son to feel any pain of the sort. She cursed Raoul for finding a way back into her life and her son's. If it had just been her, she may have been able to handle these feelings of abandonment, but it wasn't just her.

She knew that Raoul cared about Adrienne deeply, even if it did bother her. As silly as she knew it was, she was jealous. The two held a special bond that she felt she was left out of, and she was his mother. Sighing, she was defeated knowing that she would have to get past these feelings. Raoul would never hurt her or Adrienne like Claudehad. He would protect them, and if not love her, love Adrienne in the very least.

"Too much indeed." She said quietly and sipped at her tea. She thought on Etienne, would he be coming over to give Adrienne a toy? Would he be civil to the man sitting in her living area?

"Oh come now Meg, what ever happened to the care free girl who used to love presents?" he said smiling and patting her hand as they sat side by side in front of the fire.

"She went away when she learnt of bills and work." She said laughing sweetly. Her blonde locks bouncing freely. The small creases in her brow smoothed and she looked all a twenty again Raoul mused. He made another mental note to make her laugh more often.

"How is work?" Raoul asked as he watched Adrienne made neighing sounds in the corner of the room. He was truly fascinated with the small toy that was given to him.

_If he is happy now, imagine what you can give him if Meg will just agree, _he thought. Which was another reason why he had come to visit her.

"Work is... well… work Vicomte de Chagny. Hardly anything to talk about on a fine Saturday like this." Meg said fixing her skirts trying to avoid looking him in the eye. She didn't want to tell him that she was going to be taking a pay cut in a few months, she didn't want to tell him that she may be out of a job soon after that. He would only offer her more money, false protection that she did not want nor care for.

The Opera was not doing as well as it could be in the last few years. After Christine, there had been Carlotta. She had stayed with the opera a year, and then offered a far more appealing contract in Italy. After the cow, the lovely voice of a Chantal Belmont sang as the Prima Donna for a few years. It was when her husband died that she held true to the traditions of any widower, and went into a year of mourning. By then her contract was given to a Valerie Dabien who could not sing if her life depended on it. The shrill woman was nice however, making her stay a bit longer then the audience would have liked. Yet, another tragedy fell upon the opera that year when she took ill and died. After that, there were not very many dedicated patrons of the opera, due to Miss Dabien's tendency to sound like a whiny violin, God rest her soul.

New Prima Donna's came and went, as did many to the opera. However, none drew the attention Christine had nine years previously or even Carlotta's hold on the audience for that matter. What they needed was a good opera, something that would draw people back, and something that was entirely new. How many times could you hear a bad singer play Marguerite when they had heard the best years before? If they didn't have the talent, they should at least have a fresh plot.

"Oh come now, there has to be something we can talk about." Raoul said quietly trying to catch her eyes.

"There is one thing, something you have been putting off my friend." Meg started, "How was the funeral?"

Raoul thought about the question for a moment. He knew what she was talking of, the funeral for Philippe last week. He had died finally of his old age and now Raoul was the soul owner of the entire de Chagny estate.

"It was a funeral Meg, nothing more really." He said uncomfortably. Was he going to tell her why he didn't invite her? He had not thought about it before coming. How was he to ask for her child to be his heir if he couldn't even feel comfortable bringing her to the funeral?

No that wasn't been it; he would of rather her been there right beside him. To have the support that she was always so good in giving. Nonetheless, he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and she surely would of around that, many depressed aristocrats.

"I read in the paper that your already the new Comte de Chagny, must be quite the change." She said awkwardly. Why had she even brought it up? It was in the past, nothing she could do to ease his pain or take his mind off it. Raoul's life was full of death of the ones he loved. From his parents at an early age, to his wife and daughter, and now the brother that he had indeed held dear to his heart.

"Well not really, listen Meg, about the whole thing." He said deciding to skip the part about how he didn't invite her. He was sure she already knew that it wasn't his wishes to leave her out of such a troubling time, in a way she had most likely been grieving as well. Although Philippe and Meg were not the closest people, they had both talked on several occasions about his problems years ago. They had many things in common when it came to his well-being.

"Remember how you said that giving Adrienne that present was too much? Well I'm not too sure if you are going to agree to this but I have to try. As you know, I no longer have an heir to the de Chagny estate. I want to make Adrienne that heir Meg; I want to treat him as I do now, but even better. I came to talk to you about Adrienne and how much this could do for him think of the education, think of the opportunities! He could have everything his little heart desires and the best that money can buy." Raoul said taking Meg's hands in an attempt to make her understand what he was offering.

"That is what I'm afraid of." She whispered looking in his eyes.

( ' ) '  
-

_**In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining  
defenseless and silent -  
and now I am here with you:  
no second thoughts,**_

"Erik she's simply stunning." she told him as they sat watching Danielle play.

"Everyday she looks more like you m'dear, with the exception of her eyes." He murmured, as Danielle swung higher on the swings a distance away. Her back was to them however; he could still hear her melodious laughter as she kicked her legs harder to gain altitude. He looked to the sky and realized it was a beautiful day outside; the sun was shining brightly overhead and there was barely anyone else in the park to enjoy the weather.

"Why must you always do that?" She asked him a hint of anger in her voice. He looked over into her blue eyes and then back at the child they both loved dearly. "Why must you always refuse her? Why must you always bring up… him?"

"I do not know, old habit I presume." He sighed taking off his fedora to scratch his balding head. What hair he did have had been fading into a weathered grey over time. His skin had always looked like parchment, too old for it's time, thus making him almost timeless in an uncanny sense. The only way that you could tell he was getting older was the graying hair that sporadically adorned his scalp. She however, she still looked as though not a day had passed.

"You really need to stop that. It's been seven years and you still act as though you're not her father." She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, pouting her cherry lips in an act of defiance. He chuckled at this act of disapproval, wanting to tell her how she still remained gorgeous even when she was angry. Instead, Erik pulled her into his arms and rested his head against hers.

"But she's not mine, that is the point." He said sadly as they both watched Dani laugh as she swung higher and higher.

"Erik, I gave her to you. If I didn't know you were going to be a good father then I wouldn't of done such a thing." She told him as they both continued to observe the time pass. The wind gently whistled through the trees, causing them to tremble, but he could not feel the cool air against his face. It helped him to remember it was all just a dream, and that was why he always came here unmasked, it was the only time he felt comfortable enough too.

Sighing Erik pulled away from her and replaced the fedora. "I should go." He finally said.

"Alright, shall I see you tomorrow?" She asked hopefully. He looked into her eyes and saw the need there, the need to see Danielle as well as him again. She missed them both as much as he missed her but he had to tell her the truth. He had to tell the illusion, he knew she was just that, an illusion, an elusion to something greater that could have been, but never could be. She was a constant figment of his wildly out of control imagination.

"No Angel, I do not think so. I can't keep coming here." He replied and waited for her response. The shock he was expecting never did reveal itself on her breath-taking face although she still asked him why.

"I use to love coming here, but now, now coming here just leaves me realizing it's a fantasy." He said touching her lovely cheek. If he tried hard enough, he could feel her still beneath that touch, but not without trying, not without recounting old days. He felt nothing when he touched her; heavy ivory was all he could feel, cold beneath his touch. Sighing she leaned into his hand and covered it with her own.

"Oh Erik, when will you ever learn? Fantasies are not such terrible things. You were in my fantasies every night..." She said and pulled him close to here so their foreheads touched.

"I don't know what I'm doing." He whispered lost in her eyes, "I would have died if she wasn't apart of my life and if not, I would of left the Opera house. Now she's so old and I'm restless. I use to travel, I use to play, I use to create."

"You use to be alone." She told him smiling. "Come now Erik, you must have known that being a father would be mostly like this. You still create my angel, you write your opera's and you do your best with what you have. You are doing such a wonderful job too, all I have to do is look at her and I can tell."

"I'm so terribly lost most of the time. I think, what if she catches more then just a cold? And when she does I will blame it on the terrible condition of our home."

"She's fine my love, children get sick, it's a passing. You cannot merely buy a home for you out in the country. If you were able to I am sure you would have by now, my darling. I know you always have her best intentions in mind." She finished and allowed him to pull away.

"I feel I cannot offer her what she deserves. She deserves daylight and many other things. She deserves the company of other children. All I have to give is my music and knowledge."

"And love Erik. You mustn't forget love." She told him placing her hand over his heart.

"When will you learn that's always enough? It was enough for me, and it's enough for her. Such an extraordinary gift love is darling, especially coming from you. She is safe and protected with you with all the advantages you give her. I'm sure she knows it in her heart." She said and then leaned in to be held.

He closed his eyes and tried to breath live into his creation, he thought of what she had felt like holding her the night he spent beside her in bed. Suddenly, she was soft and warm in his arms as he held her close. The faint smell of vanilla still surrounded her, it made him sad knowing that this day would end.

"What if she asks me about that night? What if she wants to know why her father never came for her or who she is? What if she finally sees me for the monster I am and leaves forever?" Erik asked still needing to know answers.

"Then tell her the truth, it's never stopped you before. And Erik, do stop referring to yourself as a monster please? If she finds out the truth it's not going to turn her away, it hasn't yet."

"How can I trust you? You're just a fabrication of my imagination and memory," Erik said pulling her away from him so he could look at her. Slowly a smile crept across her face and before he realized it, he felt her soft lips against his. Euphoria swept over him, as he felt dizzy in her embrace. There mouths moved in a passionate dance with each other until finally, after what seemed to be ages, they both parted.

"Tell me I'm not real now." She whispered seductively. He tried to catch his breath, to think non sexual thoughts of his love, but she had aroused something within him.

"Good, then it's settled, I am real, and therefore, what I say goes. Now first thing your going to remember is to stop wearing that mask around her. How many times do I have to tell you or she for that matter?"

"But..." he started,

"No but's Erik, stop wearing the mask. It's a simple request and you shouldn't deny our daughter that."

"She is not ou..."

"Second thing you will stop doing is saying she isn't your daughter. She is more your daughter then anyone else's in this world... You have been raising her for seven years now. I think you have earned the status as father, don't you?" She asked him.

"Fine," Erik sighed.

"Good, and the third thing you must stop doing is feeling so useless. Anyone can see in her eyes the love she feels for you. If you lived in a run down shack in the village of Montmarte, she would not care. Therefore stop acting as though she would." She said taking his arms and wrapping them around herself. Lazily she reclined back into his arms and he felt her curls brush across his face.

"Is that all oh powerful and wise one?" He asked mockingly.

"For today the lessons are over yes." She giggled.

For a moment, they sat in silence and listened to the child sing to herself in the distance. Erik once more looked up at the sky to see signs that it was time to return soon.

"I have to go now." He said and reluctantly moved so she would leave his arms.

"I know, it has been a lovely day hasn't it?" She asked with a sad smile.

"Yes it has my love, you know..." He started then looked over at Danielle.

"I wish she could have met you, you both have so much in common I'm sure she would have loved you dearly." He said smiling.

"I wish too, but it's alright. I still watch, I'm always watching. Good-bye Erik, I love you."

"Good-bye Christine, I love you."

( ' ) '  
-

_**This haunted face  
holds no horror  
for me now . . .**  
_

Erik woke up clinging to the clammy body of the girl beside her. She was cold now although perspiring, however, upon feeling her forehead he found her fever had broke. Sighing, he pulled her closer and wrapped the covers around her more as he listened to her calm breaths fill the silence of the room. She was his daughter, and forever would be. Slowly and hesitating he lifted his arms to behind his head and slowly undid the mask that covered half his face. Quietly he placed it on the table beside them and went back to sleep.

_He had been sitting at the organ staring at the keys, lost in thoughts that transcended most, when she approached him. _

_Nothing was said at first, her burning stare said it all, and in her hand she held a small mouse, much smaller than the rats that inhabited the basement. He had told her many times to leave it alone, that it probably carried pestilence and that if she were to continue to play with it the possibilities of her not getting sick were slim. Whether she had meant to or not, she had continued to disobey him on the matter. He had peaked into her room only nights ago to see her holding the small mouse and talking to it, telling it things that's he would not tell him. Shaking his head, he knew what had to be done. To him, it wasn't about taking away her small confidant, but from protecting her from diseases that would ravage her small body._

_While she laid in bed, fast asleep, he concocted a small poison, one that would kill an animal smaller then she, but not harm her if she were to accidentally eat it. He then dipped several small pieces of cheese in it and placed them around the house. He had completely forgotten about the small nuisance until now. There she stood, tears streaming down her face, anger etched her small jaw. _

_"Why?" she asked, "Why wont he move?"_

_"Danielle, put the little beast down, it is unwise to hold dead vermin." He casually told her, although inside his heart was breaking in two at the sight of her grief. He began to turn back to his organ when she interrupted his movements._

_"Why!" She asked, the raw agony in her voice causing him to halt. She was only five in a couple days, but the power behind the words could have made him believe she was any age. He turned slowly towards her once more, calculating how he'd handle this situation, doubting himself once more. Had he made the right decision? There was no doubt in his mind that eventually Danielle would have gotten sick from some rodent. If not from the mouse, then from another that she would have been brave enough to befriend. She was attracted to ugly things like a moth to a flame, a thought he rather resented having. He knew she was just open-minded, that she did indeed love pretty things as well, but he couldn't help feel that his own ugliness forced itself upon her, distorting her view on true beauty._

_He looked into her eyes, so green and glassy, her lips red and not without pout. Bile rose to his throat, fear ripped through his body as he realized what he did. He had not just taken care of a simple mouse, but he had killed. He had murdered something that Christine' s daughter had loved true. How could he ever be her father when he destroyed her innocence so? Now, he had to tell her, she could see her accusatory stare, her hate for him and brimmed over the edge._

_"Danielle," was all he could whisper._

_"What is death? Papa? Why wont he move?" She asked him, walking over to Erik so he could pick her up and comfort her. He breathed a shaky sigh, realizing he hadbeen over analyzing as usual, and did so._

_"Death means that he won't move Danielle, he won't move ever again, because he can't." Erik told her, lifting the small body from her grasp, he looked at the dead mouse, and carefully placed it on the table beside the organ._

_"He can't?" She asked the tear tracks drying, her little face smooth and pale white with splotchy marks._

_"When you die, you leave this world my little one." He tried to explain hesitantly. He had thought by now she understood this process, he, after all, had made it clear to her growing up her mother was never coming back._

_"What world do you go too?" She enquired, trying to process this extremely devastating news, hoping that her pet mouse would come back to her._

_"There is no other world to go to m'dear. You just cease to exist; it's like... well I suppose it's likea candle. When the flame is lit, that is you and me… living. But when the flame is blown out, then it's like death… only, we as humans cannot relight the candle, after it blows out there is no way ofgetting ittoglow once more." He said, hoping to find a uncomplicated way to enlighten her on death._

_"Does it hurt?" she asked, "Does being dead hurt?" she sniffled._

It onlyhurts to the ones that cared for the deceased so dearly,_ He thought. _

_"No, sometimes, dying hurts… sometimes it's painless. But actual death does not hurt, I would imagine it to be rather peaceful." He told her._

_"Like momma?" she asked him barely above a whisper._

_**"Erik," Christine sputtered, a small trickle of blood fell from her mouth down the side of her smooth face. **_

_"Like your mother," he responded, trying to get rid of violent images of Christine dying in the hallway._

_"But, Ann told me that mama was with the angels." Danielle questioned Erik._

_'Ann' was really Antoinette, who came to visit her sometimes. He'd give them time alone, and go for walks, or compose or sometimes just rest when they spent their time together. He usually did not want to intrude on their special friendship, one only two females can have, no matter what the age. It angered him to think that Madame Giry had been shoveling trite garbage of God into his little one's head, how he hated the idea that she would idolize some false lord over mankind, that she would be bound and chained by the laws of this God, who so reverently punished his creations all for crimes that he gave them the ability to commit._

_"First of all, you will call her 'Madame Giry' in my presence, I have raised you with more decorum then that." He told her, through clenched teeth._

_"Yes, papa." Danielle said, knowing she had hit a nerve._

_"Secondly, you will TELL Madame Giry that I told you I don't want you to be subjected to her religious bias." He finished, rubbing his temples wearily. "Don't you believe in God, Papa?" She asked him curiously, as though she already did. This made him even more upset; he had to explain himself to everyone else around him, to Nadir, to Giry, to Christine and Father Mansart from years prior to this. He never thought he'd have to explain himself to his own child. _

_"I believe there is a God out there, my dear, but he's not the benevolent and wonderful being that Madame has lead you to believe." He told her._

_"Then, what do you think he's like?" was the response, of course, in form of a question. Her questions seemed never-ending._

_"Do you remember the spider that was in the corner of your room Dani?" He asked her._

_"Yes."_

_"I think, God is a spider, and I think that, just like that spider in your room, he weaves a web in the corner of the universe. That is all we really are dear, knots in a larger web. The little strings between the knots are relationships. We are all connected, sometimes even if we are oblivious to the fact." He told her, creating a web himself, a web of explanations to things he himself never could understand._

_"But the spider's web was beautiful." She told him, remembering her other good friend, the spider that had mysteriously disappeared one day after she complained to her papa of a red bump on her arm that was rather itchy._

_"I do not deny that, for some relationships can be beautiful, and in the grand scheme of things, I do suppose it all is rather unique."_

_Even if it's also tragic, he thought. _

_"Then you believe that God can create beauty?" She asked him._

_"I have no doubt in my mind that God, like any of his beings created after him, does not have a weakness for pretty things." He mused. _Wasn't it you Antoinette, who told me that we were all created in his image? Even you said something to that affect, didn't you Father Mansart? Do you really think your god is this hideous? Choose one… did your God make a grievous error on his part, or is your god a disgusting creature like me? Or… is he neither, and instead a spider.

_"Danielle, the web may be… unique, but God is not. He is the ugly and vicious spider; he manipulates the web for his own purposes, just like the spider in your room. He used to manipulate the web to catch prey." He told her._

_"Then… I suppose, we are all doomed." She said, not knowing the true definitions of her words, and how close she was to being correct._


	33. Book III : Web Woven

**Book Three: A Web Woven**

* * *

**Gossamer web  
**by chicketieboo

My love, thou shall be my death  
Oh cruel fate has lead me to this  
To see you as you were meant to be seen  
Naked under my eyes, your gossamer hair shines  
That smile!  
Oh god in heaven, if you could hear me now  
To devote myself to a false idol is a sin  
But you created her,  
True beauty  
A goddess, perhaps, or is she an angel?  
But she is human  
All too human  
She has created more hate then love  
I only wish to appease her  
Along side other thousands who wish the same  
We fight for her love  
Like we would fight for yours.  
Oh god,  
She is a spider, a deadly assassin  
And within her I fall,  
Like within her web woven.

* * *

**Captain Oblivious**- thanks! stay tuned for the thirt part.

**Computerfreak101****-** yup, and the third part will start to go up shortly... but I think I'll take a break for a few days

**asingledarkcrimsonrose****-** I couldn't tell you, I don't really know if I could do that to Erik, but maybe one day.

**Mini Nicka**- soon, not right now, but soon

**PhantomFan13**- Everyone who'ssmart has seen Moulin Rouge, silly. That's right, I said everyone!


	34. Ageless love

**Book Three: A Web Woven**

**Chapter Thirty- Two: Ageless love  
**_  
_

_**Father once spoke  
of an angel . . .  
I used to dream (s)he'd  
appear. .  
**_

_**1902** _

Danielle walked carefully through the cobwebs and corridors of the secret passages underneath the opera house. For as long as she could remember, this was her playground, her haven, and a place for her to roam and reminisce. She sometimes would journey as far as the corridors would let her, then turn and find her way back to her home. Rarely did she ever need this precious time alone, but as of late, her father had been composing, and the organ sang so loudly through out the house, it continually kept drowning her in sound and woe. Sometime she loved being in the presence of such divine harmony, when echoes of his soul invaded her thoughts and she was left in a euphoric state of music and feeling. Then there were times like this; times she needed to escape the melancholy chords that sprang from her father's lonely heart.

Tracing her fingers along the walls of the narrow passage she thought back on fond childhood memories. Smiling, she remembered her father taking her to the park in the dead of night so that she was the only one to play. She remembered how comfortable she felt in darkness and how even now, at her age, she still hated daylight.

She then sank deeper into the pool of memories and remembered when he taught her to sing. She knew that these were the times that he was most free, for although he had taken to not wearing that damnation of a mask years ago, he still had his mask of bravado and elegance that could only could be shattered when he reached a higher plateau through singing.

Then of course, there were the vacations to exotic countries outside of her dark sanctuary. Places like Spain, and Greece, sometimes, small trips to England even. He only took her because she begged and pleaded to see places outside Paris, and he could hardly deny her anything.

There also had been her studies and toys; his inventions to keep her happy and to rectify bouts of boredom she caught. Dolls would not suffice for her anymore and he was prone to spend long nights working on a new musical box or an original work. In fact, it wasn't until now she realized he took as much pride in those knick-knacks of hers as he did the opera's he wrote and sold.

And her music box collection was she insane? Deprived? What made her feel the need to collect as many different figurine's playing songs from various opera's? He had told her it was her mothers spirit peaking through.

Smiling at these small clips of memory she deeply tried to remember anything about her mother. Closing her eyes she began her attempts to picture a face, what her touch felt like, anything she could place. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, all that entered her head were foggy images of two women, one who chose to wear black and her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, the other a beautiful woman in white who's hair fell as far as her waist. The first had been Ann, her truest companion. She knew that even though Ann had loved her, the woman in white was her mother. She smiled sadly, knowing that the remembrance of her mother had not been of her own accord, but from the poster her father hid of her mother starring in his opera. Oh sure, her father kept her mother under a veil of secrecy, but she knew small things of their past. That was what Ann had been the best at, informing her. It wasn't till she died that Danielle realized she would never know the truth about her existence, and that her father wouldn't tell her even on his own deathbed. Yet, she yearned to know what her mother smelt like, if her own appearance was so close to her maman's, what had happened to her mother, and why did her father shut him and herself away from society to live underneath an opera house.

Again, she never asked him any of these hidden questions, for some of the answers she knew in her own heart. For instance, deep down, she knew that her face resembled her mothers very much, just by the way her father looked at her. When his eyes would haze over and he would sadly smile were the times she knew that he thought of her. He said she had the voice of an angel, and the heart of a goddess. When she would ask what she sounded like truly, he would look at her deeply and tell her "Why, she sounded exactly as you my little angel." Danielle throughout her childhood dreamt of that woman in white visiting and reassuring her uneasy thoughts.

She also knew deep down that her father really was not her father. He had been appointed that role by not only herself, but also by her mother. There might still be the man out there in the world that helped create her, but she did not know him as father, and would never consider him one after Erik's devotion to her upbringing.

Lastly, she knew why she was shunned from society, although she knew much about its customs and ideals. What was she to expect with a father who looked as he did? She had never seen him treated with callous or hate, but she knew that he would be, if anyone were ever given the opportunity. She let a tear slip at the thought of all her father had endured before her birth. Had this been how her mother lived? Had her mother been afraid of the face that Danielle considered the most loving one on earth? What had caused people to be so hurtful and mean? Slowly she created a daring romantic love story between Erik and her mother.

Had he been her forbidden lover? Had they secretly carried on a forbidden love affair right underneath her husband's nose? What relationship did they have, she thought dreamily. But, Erik was old enough to be her grandfather, she thought, and still old enough to be her mother's father. Not to mention, what of his face? How had they met? What was it like? Her Papa was so antisocial she couldn't even use her overactive imagination to create a spectacular scene.

Groaning she finally sat leaning against the wall. Erik, her dear papa, what was she to do about him? What was she to say? Would he understand her wishes, would he know what she felt?

He was so busy in that damn opera he was writing called _ängel ramla_. He once said something about it being Swedish. She suspected that it wasn't so much fiction as an old story that he had held in secret deep within his heart.

She looked down at her hands, dainty and soft. She was twenty this year and still living like she were a child. True, she was to live with her father till a suitor asked for one of those hands in marriage like most proper ladies in society, yet, how was she to ever find anyone if her father still treated her like a child and did not like the thought of her leaving this prison, this heaven that was her home.

Things were so complicated these days, and she had not been sleeping like she use to. She normally slept soundly on her bed made of hundreds of blankets and cushions that she had taken up sleeping on when she was thirteen. She had refused her papa return to that dark foreboding coffin of his. But now she could not sleep for days on end until she grew so completely exhausted that she collapsed. Erik and She had been switching roles that way. He may have stayed up in the wee hours of the night, still at sixty-two but he did now need a fair amount of sleep.

She ran her hand through her dark curls. If she asked for this, would he be able to take care of himself? He always had been able too, what would be the difference now? He was an old man yes, but surprisingly determined to live, or incredibly healthy, she didn't know which. No she needed this, she needed it more then anything she had ever needed, and she knew that her father never denied her anything she needed. She would just simply tell him the truth, the truth that they both knew.

**( ' ) '  
-**

_**What is it? What has happened?**  
_

"You bought him a automobile?" Meg asked infuriated. Faint creases appeared in her brow and around her mouth as it was set in a determined frown. Her blonde hair was half done up in a bun but she left the rest hanging down loosely.

"Oh come now Meg, you know that Adrienne wanted ever since they were invented, it wasn't so expensive, it's only last years model." Raoul, the Comte de Chagny chuckled as he took a step towards her.

Meg, dear sweet Meg was still looking out for her son. Would she ever learn that he wasn't a child any longer, now instead a man of eighteen years? He had grown quite tall and lanky, however was still extremely handsome. He knew that although he was destined to be the next Comte, that he was very modest, and loved his part time job as a stagehand at the opera.

"That Monsieur, is besides the point, I specifically told him they were dangerous! And yet again you manage to undermine my parenting and give him something I do not want him to have." She said furiously. Why did Raoul not understand her wishes? Fifteen years later, and he still angered her as well as stirred other emotions she could not describe, let alone name. She had been a "widow" for almost twenty years of her life and although she was no wanton before hand, she had never been as pure as those twenty, glorious and agonizing years.

"Meg..." Raoul began, hoping to quell the sea of anger that was washing over her.

"Oh today, to you, it is Mme Verrau dit Giry." She cut in angrily. She always made him refer to her with formality when he angered her. Curse him! Curse him and his ability to make her feel this way. Couldn't he see how she felt? Couldn't he tell? They almost lived like a real family anyways. Raoul would show up everyday to spend time with them have dinner, and use to retreat well after Adrienne was put to bed. Those days were that happiest of Meg's life. For in those brief hours she could close her eyes and imagine she had a real family, one that was complete. Suitor's stayed far away from her ever since Raoul came back from his adventure to America. Not that she could ever really remarry anyways; she wasn't really free of her bond from that pathetic excuse of a first husband. Only Etienne had remained a constant in her life. A sometimes annoying, but dear and sweet constant, he had stayed a confidant to her son as well as her. Raoul was not oblivious to Etienne's desires. In fact, Raoul didn't care much for the mild-mannered priest, and likewise for Etienne regarding Raoul. But, they got along, and bit their tongues, for Meg's sake.

"Mme Verrau dit Giry, You know that I cannot deny Adrienne anything, and as the Vicomte he must keep an aura of superiority."

"What if I don't want him to think he's superior to everyone else Raoul? What if I want him to be the innocent young boy he was before he got the notion in his head he one day would be the Comte de Chagny. Damn it Raoul, you want him to quit his job as a stagehand, something he loves dearly, and then you are a complete hypocrite and approve of his choice not to tell anyone he is the Vicomte." She said throwing herself down in her favourite chair by the fire.

"It is no notion my dear, It really isn't. He will one day be the Comte, and if that is the truth, then he will be known as a de Chagny. He must be treated as any other Comte would be treated, that is why I did it Meg, I would never undermine your authority purposely. As for his choices to work at the opera, as much as I disprove it, I could hardly deny him the opportunity to work with you. Besides it's good for him I suppose to have some work experience. I just don't want society to treat him as though he does not deserve their respect when it is time for him to take the step towards his fate." He said reaching for her hand.

She looked down at her weathered scarred hands. She had not lived a day over 40 and those hands looked older then time itself. There were the scars from cooking, from sewing, from minor clumsy accidents. Those hands showed how she felt deep down inside. She was an older, wiser Meg, who did not put up with many anymore. She had no time for people's games.

"I know you wouldn't... it's just, he's growing up so fast..." She said as their hands met and she finally had swallowed the tears that had threatened to fall.

**( ' ) '  
- **_  
**In this, the Phantom's opera... **_

Erik looked over the scored deep in thought. _No, no, NO! This is ALLLL wrong, _he thought sadly.

_This does not portray Christine at all! It's more fitted for that dead toad Carlotta!_

He was writing her opera, their opera. It was a story of a passionate man who falls in love with an angel in disguise, while he claimed to be one himself. Before he could tell her the truth she is madly in love with him till the higher forces find out about their forbidden love affair, and spilt them apart. She begs with the higher power to be mortal so she can be with the man and they give her one ultimatum. If she is to be mortal, she can never return to heaven. She returns to earth to seek out her forbidden, dark lover, and finds him dead. Overtaken with sorrow and grief she kills herself.

True, it did not follow their life exactly; however the emotions they felt for those two, almost three brief years was overflowing through the entire thing. He couldn't write what really happened, not yet at least. That blasted Raoul was still alive. He couldn't fight him now, for he was not as swift as he was at forty. He didn't want to ruffle the feathers of the only man capable of making his world collapse.

Erik was just an old man in his sixties trying to make something out of his last days. He loved his daughter more then life itself and continued to devote all himself to making sure she would be well provided for if he were to leave her suddenly. Nonetheless, although he prepared himself for this, he sincerely believed he still had a few good years left in him. After all, for someone with his impeccable health, who should not believe they would live beyond their age of sixty-two?

"Papa?" He heard her voice call out to him. He bit his tongue hardly before he could call out to her.

"Christine..." He thought torn inside. Bringing his hand up violently to what was left of his hair, he ran it through and past his head before turning around to look his daughter in the eye.

"Yes my dearest..." He asked her gently, knowing she had seen the reaction to her words. Why couldn't he get over her? It had been twenty years! Drinking in his daughter's loveliness, he sighed happily. She was his pride, his joy, and his reason for living as long as he did. Her brown curls were not as dark as her mothers, but more of a rich medium brown. Her emerald green eyes shone with love and devotion to him, but a certain sadness and intelligence far beyond her years. Other then coloring she had her mothers face, a bit thinner, but still as lovely as ever. She fondly wore her mother's dresses he had kept over the years, and although they were entirely out of date she enjoyed them. She had a closet full of new ones, from when they went traveling, but inside their small kingdom, no one knew any difference. He still had a man from the outside bring them things he needed, and she had a bureau full of new clothes as well, but chose the dresses that still smelt of her mother, still after all these years.

"Papa I need to talk to you..." She said to him with a determination he recognized.

**( ' ) '  
- **

_**These things do happen.**  
_

"Oh Adrienne!" A young girl giggled and turned the corner of the long dark hall. Adrienne cringed at the sound of her voice and proceeded to hide deeper in the safety of the column that cloaked him with shadow. He closed his eyes trying to cease his heavy breathing. Sure she would find him if she was smart enough to look, however the idea never would pop into her vacant head, he could tell.

"Adrienne darling, where did you go?" She said looking down the long passage that ended in darkness. After a moment or two, the ballerina sighed and left quietly only the pitter patter of her feat breaking the deafening cacophony of silence. Adrienne deliberated whether or not he should leave the comfort of his hiding place or not just yet and decided on staying for a few more moments. He remembered a time when he used to be happy here at the opera, working along side his mother. It had been the perfect set up for him to meet the talented beautiful women of the ballet de corpse, since his mother was had once been a ballerina herself, the head mistress indeed like her mother before her.

He had taken comfort in the arms of those young ladies many times, much to his mother's dismay, and for a long time it had been amusing. But after awhile, after he had girl after girl he realized there was no challenge to them. The girls didn't even know he was the Vicomte de Chagny and they still clung to him like wet clothing. He yearned for an intelligent woman, someone who was modest and interesting. Someone to bring life to his dull surroundings, before he would forever become like his uncle Raoul, too scared to love, to proud to admit it.

Thinking about Raoul more, he took a breath and decided it was time to go see if his mother was ready to leave for home.

As he walked away from his hiding spot, he thought about the two and their weird, but obvious devotion to each other. Neither would touch, almost to a fault, no social kisses or arm offering, no gentlemanly gestures or lady-like reciprocations. He knew why, he had seen them once. His mother had drank too much wine, something she did not do often. Raoul was not supposed to be there, he wasn't supposed to know. Meg had not been telling him about how far gone the opera was these days, that she had been told two days ago, depending on the outcome of this new opera, that her job may be gone. Fleur had opened the door to him; after all, Meg had never refused him once in the last thirteen years.

_"Raoul!" his mother squealed as he walked into the parlor. Adrienne wasn't suppose to be up, he had told his mother he was heading off to bed hours ago. He had been watching her, he did not know why, but most likely to make sure she didn't hurt herself, and at the same time he didn't want to leave her alone while she drowned herself in sorrows. But now his uncle was here, he would take care of her. _

_"What are you doing here so late!" she giggled her face relaxed, her eyes slightly droopy._

_No, he now knew he had never seen his mother this bad, she usually despised drunkenness, she thought it abhorred._

_"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked gravely, standing above her as she sat in the comfortable arm chair._

_"Tell you what dear?" She said to him, still with that perfect smile on her face._

_"Tell me about the opera house! Tell me that you were going to have no job! Tell me that my heir may not have a roof over his head if this continued!" he said to her, loudly, but not to the point of yelling._

_"Oh Raoul… what difference would it make," she started, "You would have found out eventually and rode in on your high horse, making sure that everything was in order… why must it be me to tell you these things? Why must it always be me who needs saving?" She asked him with tears in her eyes._

_His anger melted off his face, and he kneeled in front of Meg, "Darling… I worry about you night and day. Please, why won't you let me move you and Adrienne to a better flat?"_

_"No," Meg refused gently, stroking his face._

_"But Meg, you never need to work…"_

_"No Raoul, I refuse to be your whore… and you know that would be all it is." She said to him still lazily stroking the side of his face. He leaned into her palm and they both knew, as well as Adrienne in the hall, that it would be viewed just like that._

_"For Adrienne's sake, no." She whispered, her face becoming serious, even in her intoxicated state. Raoul nodded, understanding what it would mean to everyone. He lifted himself from in front of her, and looked to the fire. Slowly he raked his hands through his hair. _

_"I'll go to the opera house tomorrow. I'll become patron once more if that's what it takes." He said, turning back to her and extending his hand. She took it, and he hoisted her to her feet, while saying "Come, let's get you to bed."_

_But he had been to fast, and she had fallen into his arms. It was almost instantaneous; Adrienne could see the fire between them. Raoul's breathing had tensed, and it became rather heavy. His mother, she looked at the Comte desperately, as though she begged him to do something, and yet, not do anything at all. The arm around the small of her back, held her tightly against the Raoul, and his other hand held her face and neck. Meg's arms were pressed against his chest, her hands flat against them. Adrienne didn't know what he wanted, there stood what he had always thought an uncle, and his mother, locked in a heated embrace, one that had been created so innocently. He found himself urging his uncle to kiss his mother, to finally just give into what he was feeling._

_"Meg…" was all Raoul could hoarsely whisper._

_"Hmmm…?" Her eyes began to droop more, half her senses were gone, she barely could tell they were still in that position, and it was then that Adrienne knew Raoul wouldn't do anything, that he cared far too deeply to allow anything to happen in that position._

_He watched as Raoul's thumb traced her bottom lip in anguish, as he licked his own, most likely in desire. Suddenly, the Comte shook his head and hoisted Meg to one side of him._

_"Fleur!" Raoul screamed, Meg finally past out on his shoulder. Fleur came into the room, surprised to see the scene before her, but before she could speak, Raoul did._

_"Help me get your mistress to bed."_

Since that day Adrienne could not call Raoul 'uncle'. It was a farce, and it had to stop. Knowing that the Comte truly loved his mother put him in a difficult position. Part of him wanted Raoul just to marry her and get it over with, both would be exceedingly happy if they just admitted to it, part of him wanted to run away from the entire situation all together. He was never consulted and asked beforehand if he wanted to be the Vicomte, no one ever told him what was involved, for he was just a boy. A small black hole of resentment filled him, thoughts like _"Mother only did it to stay close to the Comte."_ flooded that part of his soul. And although he regretted such thoughts, they only grew.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Who scorn his word, beware to those . . .**  
_

"Absolutely not! We have talked about this numerous times, and the answer remains no!" Erik fumed and frantically began sorting through papers so he didn't have to look her in the eye, why must she ask him such things? Didn't she know the world outside his protection was filled with hate and dangers that she would drown in? If he had it his way, she wouldn't be able to leave the lair ever, to be kept within his sight and reach so that he could make sure nothing ever harm her except for the rare time he may accidentally hurt her feelings. But those were the times he could hate and loathe himself for any damage she may still be feeling; his own contempt was punishment enough. But if someone else ever hurt her, he didn't know if he had the power to control himself. True he was much older then he was in his days with Christine, however he was sure that in full rage he could still inflict serious injury.

"But papa, what did you expect? You taught me to sing my whole life, you didn't expect me to want to do it for the rest of my life, maybe even earn a living from it?" Danielle asked him in a half angered voice.

He had heard that tone before, many times from her when she was not to get what she wanted. When she was younger it was her way of arguing with him and now in her adult years she still used it to her advantage. And yet there was something new in that voice, something new that she acquired through her years alive. Something that sounded like wisdom resonated from within her. She sounded to him as though she was being stretched thin and no matter what he did she would soon fade away. Shaking the notion from his mind he remembered he had to be firm with her, she had no idea how dangerous her request was.

"If I had known you would be so foolish to try to exploit your talents for money, I never would of taught you how to..."

"It's not about the money papa!" she pleaded with him, yet she felt he already knew that anyways. She wondered what he could possibly be trying to protect her from, what was out there that he was so afraid of? She watched as his shoulders sagged and he held onto the mantle piece.

"It's not like I am moving out, or even trying to bring home money, I just need contact Papa. I need to spend time with someone other then my mind and you. I love you Father, more then life itself but in this case, I seriously feel myself slowly withering away. I have no friends, only my books and fantasies. I have my voice, and through my voice I can make friends, maybe even a life for myself above." She said to him in one last dire effort to change his mind.

Slowly he exhaled his breath, he knew deep down no matter what he said she wouldn't listen to his reasoning nevertheless he felt he needed to state one last time his opposition.

"You cannot take that job Danielle, that is finale." He said and walked out of the room, leaving her the rest of the house to cry in.

**( ' ) '  
- **

_**Who is this angel? This . . .** _

Meg watched as a beautiful young woman walked continuously toward her. The older woman's heart skipped a beat at the beauty of this girl, no older then twenty dressed in a gown with a heavily decorated bodice and matching skirt. The detailing on the bodice was extraordinary, with its high neckline decorated. It was a very soft blue with ecru appliqué and lace trim. Meg had fancied beautiful clothes in her time, therefore appreciating the effort and time that went into the creation of the dress. Flowers of delicate yellow, white and pink decorated the yoke of the bodice. The rest of the dress was sporadically decorated with these flowers until it ended with an elaborate floral accent.

As the woman came closer, Meg took a step closer examining the beauty of the girl, her fine porcelain face shone with anxiety, as if she had no idea what she was doing.

"Excuse me?" The woman asked her waking Meg out of her appreciative half daze. The dress was a year out of style, yes, however she had not seen a commoner where one as elegant as the one she was wearing now.

"Yes?" Meg asked clearing her through and looking the girl in the eye. Those eyes, she had seen them somewhere before; so kind, and yet so very sad. They were a deep green, a green that she had seen somewhere before but could not place.

"Can you please direct me to where the auditions for chorus are being held?" She asked with a slight smile.

That smile! She swore, she had seen it too somewhere before, everything about her was all too familiar: her tan brown curly hair, her slight, almost alluring smile, and her eyes of deep green.

"Take the next right, follow the hall down all the way then turn left, and right again. That shall lead you to the manager's office where the auditions are being held. Trust me, follow the cacophony of shrill notes and baritone's warming up, you cannot miss it." Meg said tipping her head a slight in realization this woman could not be socially elite if she were looking for a job at the opera

_How strange,_ the ballet mistress thought. _I could have sworn she was someone of higher status, for her clothing is exquisite. _

"Thank you." The woman replied and passed the Madame to continue on her mission. Meg watched her as the skirt, which was as nicely detailed as the bodice, swished away.

_Christine, just admit, she looks like Christine…. You knew it all along, but then again you can never admit it when someone looks like her, there have been a few, _she finally deducted as the girl rounded and looked at her again.

Pointing down the corridor with a gloved hand, she looked for an acknowledging nod from Meg before continuing out of sight.

Sighing Meg continued on her mission to find Adrienne before it was time to go home. She smiled to herself in thought about the woman for the last time that night.


	35. Beauty, the Night

**AN -** Notice the similarities and differences between daughter and mother, is this because of Erik's upbringing? Hmmm…..

So here it is, the first chapter I've ever made that is original in about three years. Please tell me how it flows with the rest of the story... plus... this also means that updating is going to be slower... so please come back and check when you get the chance too. It may only be once a week now for awhile, the two jobs are slowing me down.

I also want to apply for a Beta reader. Someone who's not going to just say 'awesome job!' but will understand if I veto their opinion on something if I feel it's very intergral to the story. Someone who know's how to spell and the difference between 'then' and 'than'. Also, someone who's willing to get the edited version back to me within a day or two at most. I know that's alotta standards, but that's why I've never had a beta, I'm too demanding, lol

Last but not least, I want to do a poll! I wanna know who'd you guys would cast in each role so far in the story... I don't know why, but it's fun to see what YOU guys imagine when your reading compared to what I imagine... if there's a huge response and outcry for my casting, I'll post it. but so far, I'm still undecided about certain things.

**NO review responses tonight... but I love you all and thanks so much for reviewing.

* * *

**

Chapter thirty-three: Beauty, the Night.

_**Silently the senses  
**__**abandon their defences . . .**_

Erik had taught Danielle that sound was a precious thing, ever since she was a small girl. It could be manipulated and distorted to make beautiful melodies, bended and blended to make provocative and enchanting rhythms, and trained to induce seductive and sweet choruses that flow like the Nile. It could also be used as a dangerous weapon, if not trained, blended, or manipulated properly. He proved this to her one day when she was fourteen, by pulling out an old acme London police whistle.

"_This," _he said, _"This is what happens when sound does not follow it's proper path." _

Danielle watched curiously as her father put the small piece of metal to his thin lips. She noticed his eyes grow bright, the way they only could when he was imparting knowledge on her. She watched his chest rise with breath, underneath the heavy burgundy cravat and vest. Suddenly, chaos of noise filled her every sense, so terrible that even though she tried, she could not take her mind to a different place. The shrill, broken, and distinct sound forced her to her knees, where she huddled in hopes to escape its wretched chord. She barely could tell when Erik had stopped, for the sound rang still within her brain, and it had echoed out and up from the small mansion underneath the opera.

_She saw his immaculately kept shoes in front of her face, before anything else. His tall lanky legs bent at the knees and she was face to face with her own papa. Her hands were still covering her ears, trying to keep her mind from falling out. She looked to his face, which showed signs of grim understanding, but no remorse. It was a lesson that she knew she must learn, if she were to ever have a true bond with music the way her father did._

"_That my dear…that, is what happens when sound does not follow the tide." He said stroking her face gently. _

Danielle looked up to her father, who was completely engrossed in her well being. His all too serious amber eyes, bore deeply into hers, soothing her as chocolate would. He was inside her mind, checking to see if he caused any damage. She awarded him a smile for his efforts, which sufficed for him. He lifted her to her feet, and hugged her gently, resting his chin on the top of her head. She could hear his stead heart beat underneath his thick layers of clothing.

"_I'm sorry Danielle, I thought it would…be a more retainable memory if it was without warning, perhaps I misjudged the severity of this lesson by using my own dour outlook." He murmured into her hair. Her hands pressed against his chest, the warmth and pureness of her papa's embrace soothed her._

"_Did you put my maman through that?" she inquired._

_He stiffened, like he always did at the mere mention of her mother, then relaxed deeper into the embrace of the young girl before answering.  
_

"_No, we never reached that aspect of her training, you've now officially surpassed your mother." He told her, letting his fingers trail loosely in her curls._

_They stood their for moments, neither speaking, both caught up in memories that were not along the same path, but carried the same heavy silence._

"_Papa?" she whispered quietly, and then pulled away so she could look up into his face. He looked down at her with those intense eyes that she wished she could mimic, how she longed for them to be as hers, instead of the combination of hazel (emerald green and brown so light it could be considered gold) that they were. She searched his face, his brow furrowed waiting for her patiently, the scarred and torn visage contorted in worry, a face that she had been born into loving. _

"I never want to hear such noise again." She whispered, and placed her head back against his chest.

Unfortunately for Danielle, her keen sense of divine music had made her a connoisseur of sound, particularly the sound of song. As she walked down the hallway full of young and old singers, she felt as though she were fourteen again, trapped in a world of hateful noise, wishing she could curl up to the fetal position and hide away from the shrill e flats many women were squawking out.

Many other young women were giving her a curious eye, the kind that only a woman could give another woman. It was a way of sizing up your opponent, and often, it did not just have to do with the personality of the subject. Women, sometimes, could be crueler than the men they condemned. As a wise woman once told her, _Men may be the brutes who go to war, but women are often the ones who cause it. _

She was not use to this type of scrutiny; she had never been in the position where she was alone in a large group of people. Was this how the world acted towards it's fellow man? If it were, no wonder her father hated it and was determined to die alone. If she, a normal young woman could not merely walk down a hallway, without half of the other sex turning to gawk at her, and the half that was suppose to be her sisterhood, look at her with contempt, she could only imagine what her father's life had been like when he had spent it above ground.

She finally reached her place, at the very end of the line, before she pulled out the parchment that held the notes that were meant for her to be sung. It was an aria preformed by the angel, Katharine. In the song, she expresses her undying love for her human suitor Raghnall. It had a few bars in allegro, but for the most part, it was a slow and dramatic peace showing the virginal and pure Katharine, was ready to rid herself of her bonds to God, to be one soul with Raghnall. Her father would be beyond angry if he knew she was there, but completely mortified if she were to sing from his secretive opera.

She grew hesitant, what was she thinking doing there? Surely she did not think her own father so blatantly ignorant he would not notice her gone by now, even so, if she were to get the job, that would mean everyday she would be gone for hours on end, did she really think she would be able to sneak out, under her father's nose, or lack thereof? He was a crafty and amazingly talented genius, and she was way in over her head.

Slowly, she fluttered her eyes closed and began a small breathing exercise to calm her down and warm up her lungs. As she began to meditate in her surreal little realm, she felt someone shove into her.

Quickly she opened her eyes indignantly to find a striking young man walking away from her. His wavy blond hair fell in front of his blue eyes, when he turned back to give her a roguish grin. "Sorry!" he called back to her, his beautiful face turning once more towards the way he was running.

Danielle had never seen such beauty, her heart leapt to her chest and she found herself quite flustered. Looking around she noticed other young ladies staring after the stunningly handsome young man, and not paying any heed to her behaviors. Determined to get everything back under control, she closed her eyes once more. Slowly she began her breathing again; a constant cycle of deep breaths followed by short exhales. She began to isolate each voice that was singing around her, until she could only hear the notes she wanted to hear. Slowly, her father's song was humming in the back of her head, it's tingling sensations reaching out and flooding her being so she could hear it in it entirety. In her mind she sang with those chords, pronounced every word distinctly and constricted and molded her throat and diaphragm to the way they would be used. She could see herself onstage, as the desperate Katharine, torn between two sides of the ultimatum, to know true love without ever being able to consummate it, or to know that she would never be able to return to heaven after a short lifetime of true happiness.

_**Oh god above, here my desperate cries,  
**__**I love the mortal, I know no shame,  
**__**You created him, you said, in the image of thy self,  
**__**So why not to love him, would be to love you?**_

Carelessly she was bumped into again… her world beginning to fall apart. She tried to get out the last words before the entire realm collapsed.

**_I shall leave this heaven turned hell tonight  
_**_**And face the hell of reality tomorrow  
**__**A heaven on earth, it shall forever be.  
**__**I shall pray to my new god, Raghnall…**_

"Miss! Miss, are you alright?" she heard off distantly, "Miss!" he called again.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see a young man a few years older than her looking down at her concerned. His green eyes, a shade lighter than her own, searched her soul, as her father would do. The feeling was quite different though, where she had always welcomed her father to search her mind with his eyes, to know her heart beyond words, she felt she was being invaded by this new stranger. Doing the only thing she could think of to stop him, she looked down modestly.

"I beg your pardon, I did not hear you monsieur." She quietly told him, realizing he held her arm and was rather close to her.

"That's all right, I just worried when you didn't forgive me the first time, I had bumped into you and you did not even notice. I guess you were too engrossed with thoughts of your audition perhaps?" he asked her, releasing her arm and bending slightly to try and regain eye contact. For Danielle, it wasn't that she didn't find him a handsome man, for his dark black hair was combined back from his face, his jaw set was more masculine than the first handsome boy she had seen. No it wasn't any of those things, it was something about him, and his intense eyes that threw her completely off balance.

"Thank you for your concern monsieur, it was rather considerate of you. I apologize for causing you worry, but I'm fine now." She told him, with a short smile.

She had been looking for him to smile at her, to tell her that it was all right and go on his merry way, but instead his frown set in deeper, his eyes searching even deeper. She felt panicked, with her back to the wall, terrified no one would save her.

"Next!" someone yelled from inside the doorway to the small room where the auditions were being held, it was a noise that Danielle had gotten used to, over the hour or two she had been standing in line. Nor could she tear away her eyes from the gaze of the man in front of her.

"Hey, you… girl! Are you here for the auditions or not?" the man called. This awoke Danielle from her trance. She looked over to the door and saw an auditioner waiting on her rather annoyed. She smiled apologetically to the man who was waiting, then back to the one in front of her. She noted he had backed away considerably from her so she may enter her audition.

"Good luck…" The dark man with no name called out to her as she entered the room. As she looked back at him, she saw him staring at her and the worry around the edges of her heart melted. He seemed like a genuinely concerned and sweet worker here within the opera, and for that she gave him a sincere smile.

"Thank you… I appreciate your kindness." She told him, before entering the room. The auditioner sneered at the dark young man and closed the door to the auditioning room.

Danielle entered the room and searched the faces of the people around her. There were only two men in the room, one of them being the man who went to the door for her. Both sat down in chairs in front of her. She looked to the piano that had no player behind it. The men were talking quietly amongst themselves, not really paying attention to the young woman in front of them.

"Monsieur's?" She asked, quietly, holding her music in front of her, her gloved fingers crumbling her father's music. Both men looked up to her, startled that she was speaking to them. She looked to the piano and back to the men, in hopes they could explain the process to her.

"Is this your first time?" one of them asked astounded. The other just leered at her, staring at her in a way she could not describe, for she had never seen such a look. He licked his lips at her and grinned stupidly, causing her to feel knots within her stomach. _Where all men, other then her papa, such vile and awful creatures?_

"Yes monsieur, it is." She told him. Hoping that would mean they would explain to her what she was suppose to do, other then just expecting her to know exactly how to please them. _Run! _Her mind screamed, drowning out all other sounds, _get out while you can! _But her feet were frozen in place. She vaguely heard what the man in front of her was telling her, suddenly she focused in on his voice.

"…A Capella, state the opera's name and the piece do you understand?" he asked her.

Too afraid to ask him to repeat himself, she nodded her head dumbly and handed him the score. The men looked it over indifferently and then looked back at her.

"The opera's title is _ängel ramla,_ the composer is still unknown. This piece is called _En Ängel välja._"

With that, she began, and both men were lost amongst the background, as she once again became Katharine.

**_Who are you, strange  
_**_**angel . . .?**_

**( ' ) '  
-**

"Hello Adrienne," a voice carried from the shadows. He had been walking down the narrow corridor that lead to the corps' dressing area. His mother's office was located there, and that had been how he had started his mild fascination with scantily clad ballerinas. All he had wanted to do was go home, share supper with his mother and forget about the day. So many times was he chased around by the ballerina's, but this one, this one particular one was the nail in his coffin.

He knew the voice to well, incredibly smooth and sweet as butterscotch, something any man would love in a woman, and what a woman. She was young, but still was a good five years older then he was. Nonetheless, there was something that drew him to Aimee, although he fought it off like the plague. It was something that could make her seem so incredibly small and younger then he was, and then she could just shake it off, and become the young seductress.

"Hello Aimee," he returned, and turned towards her. There she stood, in front of him, her arm against the pillar, the other placed on her lithe hip. Slowly she removed herself from the embrace of the shadows and advanced on the young man. Her costume was skimpy, just fabric covering her breasts and her legs. The latest opera involved a scene with slave girls dancing seductively to lure the king. Aimee seemed no one's slave.

"Have I told you how handsome you are lately?" She breathed, her body pressing against him, trying to melt into him.

"Aimee, that's enough!" he said, throwing her off him. She stumbled backwards, her curls flittering all about her, her blue eyes wide with surprise. He would have reached out for her, but he knew her nimble feet were capable of balance. She wanted him to reach out to her; she wanted any reason to fling herself back at him. They stood there, staring at each other, Aimee with resentment and anger in her eyes, Adrienne with tired hesitation.

Suddenly a young woman turned the corner and found them in this position. Rather startled, it was obvious she didn't know what to make of the encounter. Adrienne took this opportunity and distorted it to his advantage.

"There you are darling!" he said to the brunette he had met only once. He walked over to her; she too stunned to move by his boldness. Gently he kissed her cheek and pulled her into an embrace.

"Please… play along, I beg of you." He whispered to her. He was taller then she was, her ear just in reach of his mouth.

"Yes… um… dearest. I was looking for you?" she asked him confused.

"Don't be silly! I told you I was off to find mother, and that I should be by the corps de ballet's rooms." He spoke flashing her a large and grateful grin.

Their embrace was interrupted, however, by the sound of someone clearing their throat. This caused both Adrienne and the brunette to turn and see Aimee, who was watching them intently.

"Adrienne?" Aimee asked him confused. Her beautiful blue eyes looked as though they contained all the hurt of the world, and half the hate of mankind.

"If you'll excuse us Aimee, my…" Adrienne started, and then realized he had no idea what the young woman on his arm's name was. He then searched for a different pet name other then dear, my small one, and my love.

"…Small grapefruit… "

"… Small grapefruit?" both girls repeated suspiciously.

"Yes it's one of our quirky little pet names for each other… its… heh…" Adrienne started and looked at the brunette pleadingly. She looked at him and her eyes widened again in understanding.

"Oh! Yes… grapefruit… haha! I completely forgot, you must forgive me I'm always forgetting things! This one time I even forgot my darlings NAME." she said happily.The arm that was around her waist pinched her shoulder in sign that she was going overboard. Shethen turned back to Adrienne and pinched his cheek.

"My little grapefruit." She said to him like someone would speak to a child. Both Aimee and Adrienne looked at her like she was insane. Yet, Adrienne was smart enough to take this opportunity and go.

"Well we have to go and find my mother, I shall see you at the next rehearsal, Aimee!" Adrienne said leaving a stunned and silent ballerina behind them. Quickly Adrienne veered the beautiful girl away from her as fast as possible, just so that when Aimee awoke from her daze they wouldn't be around for her interrogative questions. As they rounded their second corner she was the first to speak.

"My grapefruit?" She asked him incredulously.

"I don't do well under pressure." He told her, and gave a sheepish grin. As they rounded the third corner, both broke out in laughter. The brunette's eyes teared in laughter and he leaned his head back against the wall.

"I can tell…" She replied to his response, she said, her smile bringing his own to brilliance.

"It's not like you did any better. 'Oh…yes! My little grapefruit!' that was rather convincing." He mimicked her.

"Excuse me, but I think under the circumstances, I the best any aspiring young actress could." She said, swallowing her giggles and wiping away the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes. As Adrienne sobered, he drank in the gorgeous sight before him. He realized that he couldn't have picked a better girl to get Aimee's goat. The vision before him was stunning. Hazel green eyes, which included golden flecks that rimmed the center, and that were outlined by dark long lashes, stared back blankly into his own. Her chocolate brown curls were piled high on top of her head, only a few loose to give an idea of what the entire thing would look like if only released. Her lips were full and inviting, but not pouting continuously to try and get men to notice her, and lastly skin as smooth as alabaster and as pale as ivory.

"You're stunning." He said to her. She sobered and looked at him amused but wary.

"You're rude." She told him, as though it weren't really a fault. Suddenly, she turned and began to walk away.

"Wait! How did your audition go?" he asked her and caught up.

"How did you know I was auditioning?" She asked him stopping. There was fear in her voice and she turned to him and looked at him like he knew something she didn't.

"Whoa there, it could have been the piece of music in your hand, or the reference to being an aspiring young actress." He said, taking the music from her hand and placing his own with in it. "But I think it was me running into in the hall that lead to the auditioning room that did it." He told her holding her hand to his face.

"Which, by the way, I didn't properly apologize for." He finished by slowly kissing the top of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers for a minute. If she felt anything for him, she never showed it in her face, but instead rolled her eyes at his gesture, and removed her hand from his grasp.

"Please, let me take you to supper, so I may express my deepest gratitude and sincerest grievances over my behavior earlier today." He asked her, his triangular face tilting to the side, causing his hair to roll back in front of her eyes once more.

"I believe your apology will be just sufficient," She told him nodding her head in an act of small cursty and beginning to walk away. He watched her backside as she strolled down the hall away from him. Panic went through him like a lightning bolt, realizing their meeting was drawing to an end.

"Wait! Were are you going?" he asked her.

"Home… " She told him, turning back and smiling to him as she held the side of her dress and scurried faster down the hall.

He watched hergo while trying to think of a way to get her to stay, that waswhen he remembered that he had her music still in his hand.

"Wait, your music!" He called to her, causing her to stop. He quickly ran up to her and was about to place it in her hands when he realized this was another great opportunity for him.

"Thank you," She started, "If I lost it the composer… well to say 'be extremely upset' is an understatement." She said holding her hand out to retrieve it.

"Wait a minute, you can have it if you promise me I can take you to dinner." He said smiling in confidence.

Instead of the smile he was expecting, and the exasperated 'yes', her face paled and her eyes widened. "I cannot promise you that. Please, please give me back my music." She begged.

Adrienne's demeanor changed, he knew that he had stepped over some line and tried to backtrack. "Then for your name, dear lady… I'll give you it back for your name."

The young lady hesitated then spoke, "It's Belle. Belle Lenuit."

"Breathtaking, just like you." He told her, handing her the music. She didn't run away, like he expected her to. But instead asked him "Do you flirt so shamelessly with every girl?"

He smiled at her, "Adrienne, my names Adrienne."

"Do you have a last name, or shall I have to call you Monsieur Adrienne?"

"No… I mean, yes. It's complicated. I've had three last names almost my entire life, and so… It feels like I have no last name at all… merely Adrienne."

Although it barely made sense to him, it seemed that Belle understood exactly what he meant by not having a grounded last name, a link to the past. She nodded her head in affirmation, and began to walk away.

As she reached the end of the hall, Adrienne called out to her. "You didn't let me answer your question!"

She turned back, "Tell me the next time we meet!" she called to him.

"The answer is, only the pretty ones!" he yelled to her, causing her to scoff and stomp away.

He smiled brilliantly, and shook his head; there was definitely something about Belle Lenuit.


	36. Into the Stirring Pot

**An - **Thank you to all my reviewers who applied for the beta-ship. I was really taken back by the amount of people who wanted to merely edit my story. I would also like to say I found a worthy advisary to my wretched grammar and punctuation skills, thank you **Olethros.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter thirty four: Into the Stirring Pot.**

**_Those who hear your voice  
_**_**liken you to an angel!**_

"So we both agree, 'no' to the Laurette girl." M. Lamotte said, crossing her name off the list. They had been at it for hours, agreeing and disagreeing upon names of young chorus hopefuls. They were finally almost finished, all that was left was one more name, one last audition to discuss. Lamotte could still see the young woman standing there, her voice ringing out, purer than a cathedral bell. M. Emery sat back against his chair waiting for his partner to read out the next name. He knew what it was before the syllables slid from his friend's lips. He thought of her shy smile and those luscious lips and formed the previous. His hands went behind his head as he relaxed his legs on the chair that his partner had sat in for the majority of the day.

"That leaves us with Belle Lenuit," Lamotte said, looking up with a smirk to Emery. He was leaning against the piano, his neck and back stiff from sitting hunched over in front of the board all day. Emery smiled and shook his head, removing his arms from behind his head, and crossing them in front of him, his forearms bare. Lamotte took off his wire-rimmed glasses and began to wipe them on his shirt.

"She's good." Lamotte said, while wiping way a day's worth of dust that covered the small frames.

"She's very good." Emery replied, still sitting in his very relaxed position. Both looked at each other, grinning from ear to ear. They had worked and served as each other's equal in this business for a long time, so it wasn't the least bit surprising when they both followed the same path of ideas or could read each other's thoughts.

"She was the best singer I've ever heard." Emery told Lamotte with a quiet reverence.

"I know." Lamotte simply replied, finally finishing his glasses and replacing them on his nose. He then scratched out the name on the list. He didn't have to even ask Emery if they were going to hire her, they both knew they couldn't. That was the problem with the chorus; the managers themselves had stated specifically if the chorus department had seen a singer who was amazing, they were not to hire her as chorus.

There were many reasons why this was never to happen. One of them was that, years ago, when Firmin and Andre were still middle-aged men, they had seen a young chorus girl who sang better than their own Prima Donna. This created problems because as much as no one would like to admit it, Opera was an art form that had its own little political hierarchy, and this girl had turned it upside down. The second reason was hiring a chorus girl who sang better than anyone in the chorus created an unbalance. The chorus was suppose to blend and mold with each other and if they couldn't meet the standards of the best singer, then they would sound out of tune. Even still, if the best chorus singer is better than the diva, then the diva will be upset and perhaps force the better singer to quit, or the chorus girl will demand better pay or a better position.

In a time where they could of used a singer like Belle, they let her go, and they knew they'd regret it. If only she had left a return address, or some way to get a hold of her, instead of telling them she'd come three days from now to check the casting list outside the auditioning room, they may have been in a different position. As it was, they were tired old men who some days didn't care about the outcome of the opera company.

"It's a pity, too, she had the perfect name to be a star." Emery said, looking over at his partner.

They both chuckled.

( ' ) '  
-

_**You have come here,  
**__**for one purpose,  
**__**and one alone . . .**_

Aimee stood in the street, her slave girl costume still worn, her face painted with make-up, her smile worn carefully. The streets were busy in Montmartre, a place where when she wasn't dancing for the Opera, she was busy making money any way she could. It had been her home for years, and it wasn't more than a few years ago, that it hadn't been such a horrible place to be. For those few years she had found peace, she had found existence to be worth living, and she had been happy.

She watched as the writer walked past her, she didn't even call out to him, she knew he wouldn't respond. Half of them didn't anymore, no one wanted a used dancer, a girl whose false smiles and fake moans could be bought for as little as a few coins. Not here at least. The money she had earned from the wealthy patrons was enough to get her off the streets. Why didn't she spend it now? Because she wanted more, she wanted to be able to never return to this lifestyle again and she knew that she didn't have quite enough yet. She watched as he turned the corner, like he always did, wandering in the night, back to wherever he came from. Her heart shared a kindred bond with his, even if he did not know it. She knew his story through rumor, and she knew that she felt his pain. She knew he must feel the same numbness that she felt everyday.

"_You must understand, I'm doing this because I love you." She told him on a moment of impulse, she really had no idea why she was doing this, other than her feelings for him. If he stayed, her secret would come out and he would end up hating her. _

"_I don't understand Aimee… You were the one who started this, now you want to end it? Why can't you tell me why?" he asked.  
_

"_I can't… just believe me… I can't. Please, just please go… you must go quickly." She told him, throwing his shirt into his arms, and pushing him out the door._

_  
_She shrugged the memory away like it was a piece of her skimpy costume, just as a new potential customer emerged from the darkness. Wearing her smile like a mask, she approached the man.

"Isn't it a little late for a stroll monsieur?" she asked him sultrily. He stopped in the shadows, hiding away from the light and from her. Smirking, she tip-toed over to the man and pressed herself against him, still unable to see his face underneath the heavy cloak.

"At least, for a stroll alone?" she asked him. He brushed the hair out of her face tenderly as she went to push the hood of his cloak back. As she reached for the top of his head, he grabbed her hand and spun her around, holding the frail arm behind her back. Panicking, her heart caught in her throat, her voice shook.

"If you prefer to play rough, monsieur," she said hoping to persuade the brutal man to be gentler, "I prefer to see your face."

"And I prefer to not commit an act of incest." Said a familiar voice in her ear, before chuckling and releasing her in a distasteful way.

"Damien!" Aimee cried, racing back to his arms in a less sexual way. Her voice had returned to normal and she didn't care if she let the tears fall. She hadn't seen her dear brother in months, and realized he had made her realize that if it had not been him, it was possible she could have died.

"That was a cruel trick to play!" She said releasing him from her embrace and pushing herself away from him. He only chuckled and grabbed for her hands, holding them in his own.

"You would know something about tricks, wouldn't you, Aimee?" He asked her mockingly. Her jaw dropped at his audacity and she lunged forward angrily. He laughed at her abysmal attack and held her flailing arms away from him. When she calmed down and when he sobered from his cruel words, he let her go and took off his cloak.

"Here, wear this, it's freezing out." He told her placing the thick velvet across her shoulders.

"I'm use to it," she said shivering into the warmth. She realized she must look so small to him, inside the warmth of the cloak a foot shorter than her older brother.

"Why are you even out tonight? I told you to use the money in the crock pot while I was gone, I told you, you were not to continue like this until I return so I could protect you." He told her, clasping the cloak into place.

"That money is to be saved, we are to retire on it… I will not be using it for selfish needs while you're about securing more wealth for us." She told him with a pout. He was always making fun of her, belittling her and angry that she earned her half the way she did. It didn't stop him from letting her do it though, merely because the more they made, the sooner she would stop doing the horrific deed. All they wanted was two be able to purchase two apartments beside each other, secure enough money that she could marry one day if she choose too, and make sure they had enough to live on with menial jobs, without ever having to worry again. That was the goal after all, but after so many years of scamming and whoring, both Damien and Aimee had no idea when they were going to stop.

"Where did you get the cloak?" she asked, as he placed his arm around her, and they walked back to the small dingy apartment they had lived in since their grandfather had taken them in.

"You'd never guess." He told her, lazily holding her to his side, making sure that everyone on the street knew that he was back. He was Aimee's guardian and protector, and he would never let anyone harm her. One night, one of her customers had decided to get rough without her permission and had left her with a lovely bruise above her eye. The next day, the customer was not seen, nor the day after that. In fact, Aimee hadn't seen him at all around recently. When she did see him, two months after the incident, he saw her, grimaced, and turned and walked rapidly in the opposite direction.

"Then why don't you just tell me?" she asked him testily.

"The costume department." He told her rubbing her shoulder as she shivered again, her breath visible in front of her pale lips.

"You got your job back at the opera house?" she asked him curiously.

"Well Bouchard was not pleased to see me back, but when I handed him a slip written in the handwriting of one Monsieur Richard Firmin…"

"Oh Damien, you didn't." Aimee said, knowing that her brother was up to his old tricks again. He had been fortunate enough to be a message handler between the management and the director one day. Instead of giving the note right away to its rightful receiver, he had opened it and copied it out until he had mastered the handwriting. He had given the forged copy to the director and no one had ever noticed the difference. Damien had found this a very handy tool to use when things were not going his way.

"Of course I did," he said as they rounded the corner towards the apartment. From there on it was silence till the reached the front door and climbed two flights of stairs wearily to their little home. Damien pulled out his key and turned it within the lock, opening a dark and dreary room, and turned up the gas lamp. Aimee walked in behind him and removed the fancy cloak that he had stolen from the costume department, placing it on a chair by the table. She would return it in the morning, before rehearsal. She suddenly felt very silly wearing the slave girl costume in front of her brother as he went to the cupboard and pulled out a decanter from the depths. As he searched, he pulled two glasses out as well and placed them on the countertop. Aimee wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed that her brother had seen her at her worst. She knew it was silly, but in some ways, she liked the awful treatment that came with the job. It wasn't the sex, it wasn't the money, it was the ambiguity. She didn't care about the men and they didn't care about her, which is what she wanted. There was a void in her since she pushed her love away, a large empty hole that could never be filled.

Damien poured the red liquid into the two glasses and then drank from his. Aimee looked hesitantly at her own glass, then looked at her brother. He stared at her expectantly and she shook her head no. She had no use of spirits; they were useless when she felt she had none. Damien only shrugged and drank from her glass as well, before placing the drink back into the cupboard and the glasses into a basin.

"Are you going to ask how my business venture went?" He asked her quietly, sliding back into the quiet brooding brother, she knew all too well.

"Do I want to know?" she asked him, walking over to the table and sitting in a chair beside it, crossing her legs and waiting for him to come to the table and sit with her. The velvet underneath her felt smooth against her skin, and she began to grow hesitant to take the cloak back. Her brother's small smile never wavered at her words, instead, he just sat in front of her.

"Comte de Chagny is looking for his wife's killer, and he will pay someone a handsome reward for whoever finds him. He is even willing to fund someone to investigate outside of the Sûreté." He told her, leaning back into his chair and continuing to smile that small smile.

"So? What do you propose? You already have me after Adrienne to secure his fortune. What do you plan to do to Raoul de Chagny?" She asked him curiously.

"How far have you gotten with Adrienne?" Damien asked his sister, his arms crossing over his chest.

"No where, he…. Still resists my advances." She told him quietly.

"Then, I propose that I try a different angle. If I can 'help' the Comte, I could extort some money out of him that way. Who knows, maybe I will blame some random man who has wronged us and the Comte will reward me. Either way, you still work on Adrienne." Damien told her, pulling a smoke out of his pocket, and handing one to his sister, she shook her head no and handed him some matches.

"I don't like this idea, Damien, it's wrong for us to extort this man over the memory of his wife and child." She told him, lighting the match for her brother and holding it out for him to use. He gave her a surprised look and shook his head.

"Nonsense, he gets to put his mind at ease, and we get paid… Everyone wins." He told her, as she waved out the match and he took a long inhale of his cigarette.

"It's a good thing we never told anyone that we are kin, Adrienne would be able to tell something was amiss." She told him, watching him as he placed his elbows on the table and studied the cigarette between his fingers.

Snorting he looked at Aimee and took another drag of the smoke. "Adrienne wouldn't be able to tell something was amiss if he woke up the next morning and his blonde hair was as black as mine. Really Aimee, the boy is harmless, I'm surprised you haven't caught him yet."

Aimee just shook her head. "You underestimate him, Damien, and one day you'll pay for it."

( ' ) '  
-

_**You were once  
**__**my one companion . . .  
**__**you were all  
**__**that mattered . . .**_

Erik watched his daughter from behind his novel as they both sat near the hearth. She was immersed in her worn copy of W_urthering Heights. _He himself had been reading _Candide _once again, when his attention strayed and he found himself studying his beautiful daughter by the glow of the fire. Her legs were pulled up into her lap, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair; her delicate chin perched on her hand. Those intense hazel eyes were completely focused on the words before her, her curls loose about her face. He smiled at the sight, clearing his throat to get her attention. She began to move her face towards the noise, but let her eyes linger longer on the words before meeting his. She studied his face a moment before giving him a brief smile.

"Yes Papa?" she asked him, letting her hand that held the book fall into her lap. He smiled at her, her sweet voice filling the silence with rapture.

"You've read the book more than I can count, my dear. Kathy is not going to come back to him." He told her.

"I know, Papa." She said stretching and smiling towards him. "Nothing's going to change about Candide either, Papa. He'll remain ever optimistic till the end." She told him, stretching like a cat and yawning.

"You've read the book a thousand times Danielle, wouldn't you prefer… something more refreshing?" he asked.

She shook her head and laughed slightly, "but Papa, you know how I cannot resist melodrama." She said, standing from her chair, and walking over to her father who still rested within his.

"Goodnight, Papa, I must get some sleep." She told him, kissing his forehead. He smiled up at her, looking at her behind strong amber eyes. She let her hand linger awhile on his shoulder, before turning around and walking towards her bedroom.

"Where were you today?" he asked her quietly.

Danielle stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding in her mouth. She had known it possible he would bring up her lengthy absence. She had been prepared for it upon her return. However, after returning with no mention of it over tea, dinner, lessons and reading time, she had let it slip from her mind.

She slowly turned around to face her father. Her smile never faltered as she looked into his cautious eyes.

"I found myself growing bored so I used the Rue Scribe entrance so I could go window shopping. There is lovely new green silk in Belle's boutique. Perhaps, we could go shopping on the morrow?" she found herself asking.

_You didn't even need to think upon that before letting it fall from your mouth. Maybe this secret wont be so hard to keep, _she thought.

Erik's eyes narrowed as he searched her face, somehow she could tell he didn't quite believe all of what she said, but before she fell apart under her father's scrutinizing gaze, his eyes sobered and he smiled at her.

"I see no fault in granting you with whatever your heart desires." He said warmly, and then his eyes returned to his book. She stared back at her father, sitting there, with his long lanky legs crossed. His face was unmasked and relaxed, something that, she realized, was very hard to be both. His wig was immaculate against his stark white skin, but she knew better than to ask for more. She granted him the wig not because she cared for it, but because it pleased him to wear. There he sat, content and peaceful.

"Let me know if something changes drastically in Candide, Papa." She told him, her hands on the small of her back.

"I shall, darling." He told her, turning the page with his long graceful fingers.

Danielle just smiled and headed to her room.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Angel or madman . . .?**_

Damien sat in front of the table, drinking one last glass of wine before heading off to bed. Aimee had retreated to hers long before him, and he was happy for the time alone. He stared down at the piece of paper in front of him that Lamotte and Emery had written up, and the original rough copy of the list they had thrown out. He looked at the original list, and compared it to the new one. There was her name, scratched out in charcoal. What fools, to have not give this_ Belle Lenuit_ a place in the chorus, what had they been thinking? He sat there and closed his eyes in thought of her.

"Good luck…" He had called out to her. Why? He didn't know, but there was something about her subtle graceful movements, her hazel eyes. Some innocence in every word and nuance of her being that made him think of Aimee, and how a proper lady should be. He hadn't seen one in so long, that he was completely taken back with how she held herself, and went about her business. Guardedly, she smiled back at him, and oh! What a smile it was. He could feel his heart beat beneath his ribcage at her gentle and enticing lips.

"_Thank you… I appreciate your kindness." She told him, before entering the room. The auditioner sneered at him before closing the door to the auditioning room. _

Maybe they let her go because she wouldn't give into their sexual desires, maybe she was just too amazing that she could cause problems, or maybe she was a horrific singer compared to her beauty, whatever the reasoning, he wasn't going to allow those two to ruin his chances. He had to see her again, even if it was just to witness that small curious smile once more.

Taking a piece of charcoal that lay on the table he carefully wrote in her name at the bottom of the list.

He then got out a fresh piece of paper and wrote:

_**Dear Messieurs: **_

It has come to my attention that you have written up the new members of the Opera Populaire's chorus, and we thank you for your diligence. However, my partner and I dually noted that you left a particular name off your list.

_**Belle Lenuit.**_

_**Both Andre and I were extremely unsatisfied with this error in judgment. Hopefully you will reconsider this young singer before posting your list outside the auditioning room a few days from now. We realize that our request may seem strange, but she is dear to our hearts and we promised her a position within the Opera. We also request that you do not bring this up in her presence or ours. We would like to think she received the job on her own merits**_

_**Sincerely**_

_**Richard Firmin.  
**_

With that, Damien retreated to his bedroom.


	37. Lovers and Theives

**AN - **I'm been SUPER busy lately with my best friends wedding, which now is on saturday. To think, I have to make 14 scrapbook pages in 2 days. Faints

Thank you to **Olethros, **yet again for another chapter well edited.

PhantomFan13- I hope you liked the last chapter and the bit about Aimee and 'the writer' ;)

Thank you to all my other reviewers as well, I totally appreciate your comments and reviews. Please enjoy and know that although the updates are slower, you guys are never far from my thoughts.

**

* * *

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Chapter thirty five: Lovers and Thieves

_**You can't have lost it, after all the trouble I took.  
I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin.**_

Raoul looked up from the documents piled in front of him to his heir. The papers were filled with accounts numbers and withdrawals per month, documents that outlined the de Chagny fortune and land. In all honesty, they bored Raoul to tears, but it was imperative that he discuss these matters with Adrienne. They had planned to introduce him to Parisian society when he turned eighteen. Meg however had not been very supportive of that idea.

"He's merely a child." She told Raoul when Adrienne was sixteen, "Let him have some fun before you weigh him down with titles and land."

Now Adrienne was a man and he needed to learn about his legacy as well as customs and propriety. Not that Raoul knew much on the subject himself. His own life had been rather taboo. He just wanted Adrienne to be accepted for who he was: a bright young man with many talents. In fact, Raoul's title was flimsy at best in the now a days, when anyone with money could be accepted into the circles of the social elite. As he looked over to his heir across the table from him, he noticed the young man wasn't paying any attention to Raoul or what he had to say.

Adrienne was staring out the window, a glass of wine in his hand, his straight blond locks falling into his blue eyes. They were spending the night at Raoul's estate, so he and Raoul could stay up late discussing the matters and there be room for everyone to have a peaceful rest. Meg had gone off to the guest bedroom hours before hand, quietly excusing herself. Raoul had watched wistfully as the delicate blonde woman left him and her son to banter over trivial matters before setting to business.

"Adrienne, are you even listening to me?" he asked his adoptive nephew.

"When we go to Rome next summer, you will want to introduce me to the bank manager there and open my own accounts into which I will transfer my trust fund. Then I will open private accounts in Rome, Switzerland, England and Paris." Adrienne said with a monotone voice.

Raoul was quite taken back that Adrienne had been listening. He smiled slightly and removed his spectacles that he had recently purchased to help him read.

"I know that this all boring and dreary, but it's important we talk about it." He told him, looking back down at the documents.

"How did you know you were in love, Raoul?" Adrienne asked him out of nowhere, more to himself then the Comte.

Raoul froze at the question, wondering where it came from and how to answer it. He looked back at Adrienne who was still staring out the window with intensity. Adrienne looked back at Raoul briefly, smiled and said "Sorry Comte, just thinking aloud."

He turned back to stare out the window, like a lost boy, searching for something.

_Searching for a scarf out in that vast sea. _

Raoul was walking lazily along the shore, rather bored with his governess's company. Chantelle was nice, but she was not the chosen companion of the fourteen-year-old.

He looked up from his feet, gazing out in front of him, taking in more then the scenery. There, just ahead was a young girl, along with an older man he assumed her father. The older man was playing the violin, a rather wonderful melody. He had never heard the song before, but it invaded his thoughts, etched its way into his brain. The younger girl, she was dancing. She had hiked her dress up, so her feet were visible. The movements were not trained, nor any particular style, but she looked like she was having fun.

_When she turned and he saw her face, it was bright with love and happiness. Raoul was caught off guard by such a sight; he had never merely looked at a girl and felt this way before. The back of his neck began to tingle and he longed to giggle and dance with the girl who had to be no more then eleven. He watched her twirl and giggle around the legs of her father, just as the wind began to pick up. As she continued to twirl, the red scarf that adorned her throat was ripped from its home and carried out to sea._

"I knew I loved her from the first moment I saw her when we were children, Adrienne. The Vicomtess was breathtaking even as a young girl. I know it seems rather shallow, to base your love on mere sight, but Christine's personality shone out from within. She was charming, sweet, innocent, considerateand considerate and above all, caring. She cared for the smallest creatures to the biggest political problems. The girl put way too much on her shoulders, and I just wanted to rescue her from a bit of her unending worry and dread . dread. The second time that I saw her for the 'first time,' she was just as radiant as a young woman. Her character glowed underneath the surface of her alabaster skin. It was then I knew I had to marry her." He told Adrienne wistfully. He couldn't look at the young man, he was afraid there was tears in his eyes that threatened to fall.

When he did look at Adrienne, he saw a mixture of anger, disappointment, with just a touch of understanding. Subtly the boy shook his head and got up from the chair and stretched.

"I think it's time for me to go get some sleep." Adrienne told Raoul before beginning to walk away.

"What?" Raoul asked him confused, what had he said to warrant this reaction?

"Nothing… I wasn't… Nothing. I asked, and I got an answer, for some reason I was expecting something else." Adrienne said reaching the door frame. It was there that he turned his head back and finally looked at Raoul.

"I sometimes forget how much you loved her." Adrienne said, his arm above his head as he leaned against the frame.

"I still do." Raoul said curiously, wondering what had gotten into the boy. Adrienne just smiled sadly and shook his head. Without saying anything else, he turned and his footsteps could be heard down the hall.

Raoul was left with no explanation.

( ' ) '  
-

_**Fear can turn to love,  
you'll learn to see,  
to find the man behind the monster**_

Danielle had snuck out again while her father worked on "Angel Ramla". Her hat securely on her head and her gloves in place she walked up the basement stairs towards the surface above. Once she reached the dressing room with the two way mirror, (an invention her father refused to explain to her), she felt around for the release mechanism. Slowly the mirror slid to the left, revealing a very modest dressing room. This dressing room had been forbidden to her for many years, one that her father always passed and told her to continue onward. She could not understand its importance or danger to her, or why her father would hold it over her head. It was not the only room with a double sided mirror, but it was the least conspicuous for her cause, and therefore she used it without hesitation.

Slowly looking around, she noticed that the room looked as though it hadn't been touched in twenty years. Cobwebs formed in the corners, a thin layer of dust covering the mirror and bed frame. The gas lamp was right beside the door, easily accessible for whoever had to refill its fuel. Brushing dust and cobwebs from her dress, she quietly tip- toed to the door, listening to see if anyone may be on the other side. Once she determined it was all right to leave the safety of the deserted dressing room, she opened the door hesitantly and peered out. Assessing there was no one in sight; she opened the door further and exited the small room. From there, she turned the corner of the small hallway and headed towards the audition room.

As she made her way towards the room, she thought of her father back at home, and the many hat boxes that were left unopened in her room. He had not been kidding when he told her he planned to grant her everything her heart requested. She made some purchases on a whim, expecting him to finally tell her no. But instead, he would merely smile and ask the shop owner to have it wrapped up for her. It was amazing how his flesh colored mask let him roam about during the day. He rarely used it, still preferring to do most of his business under the protection of darkness. However, when he did decide that it would alright for them to venture out into the light, he donned his pink leather mask. Most people would do a double take if they were looking at him closely, but her father had a way of making himself blend into the background. He'd wear a fedora to shade the covered side and turned his good profile towards whomever spoke to him.

Danielle tried to keep most people away from him anyways. She knew how he felt about pesky people.

As she turned the next corner, she ran shoulder to shoulder into someone. Lifting her head she realized it was Adrienne.

"You!" she exclaimed.

"You!" he replied happily.

Irritated, she tried to get past him, only to have him block her path. She narrowed her eyes in warning at her as he began to chuckle at her indignant behavior.

"Let me pass! I have no business with the likes of you." She told him, finally standing in one spot, a small but defiant pout on her lips.

"Oh but you do… you see I have seen the chorus cast list and could tell you if you are hired." He told her still standing with a toothy grin in her way.

"You may keep the knowledge to yourself, I shall go check the list myself." She told him, pushing him out of the way, and walking past him.

"But Belle! The strangest thing has happened…" he called after her, as she stormed down the hall towards the audition room. Oh, how she was beginning to loathe this charming boy named Adrienne, with his dashing smile and brilliant eyes.

As she got to the door, she looked for the chorus list, and found none. Instead, she found four empty tacks and four tiny corners of paper, where its counterpart may have been placed up previously. Fuming, she turned around, only to see Adrienne right behind her.

"You see, someone has stolen the master copy of the list." He told her, his arm above her leaning against the door, the other hand holding a rolled up sheet of paper.

"Ah, I see… and do you have any idea who the culprit might be?" she asked him, in a terse voice, angry with herself that she enjoyed this vile boy's company.

"Me, mademoiselle? Why no, no idea whatsoever! For to have an idea would be to suggest I think like a culprit, and I cannot fathom horrid ideas of blackmail and theft. Why, my mind is cleaner then the sky on a sunny day." He told her, leaning closer to her as her back was against the wall.

"Mmmm… I see." She said, the right corner of her mouth twitching up in an involuntary grin.

"Your just a pillar of virtue aren't you, M. Adrienne with-no-last-name?" she asked.

"Right you are, mademoiselle Lenuit. Why, I'm not even thinking at all about how gorgeous your eyes are when you are angry." He moved closer.

Heat rushed to Danielle's face, she wasn't used to such blatant flirtation. As Adrienne's face moved closer to hers, she turned her head swiftly to miss his kiss. Adrienne was surprised by her humility; it wasn't often that he met a young woman as intriguing as she with such virtues. He found most virtuous women to be a bore. Hell, even most women without virtue were a bore.

Before he could move though, her right cheek connected with the left side of his face, . His vision blurred and his mouth began to water.

"Oh my, I'm so terribly sorry!" he could hear her saying genuinely from a seemingly great distance.

"What was that about!" He asked incredulously.

He watched her stiffen and back away from him. "I did say I'm sorry, no need to be rude. I thought you had moved your face, I gave you a sufficient amount of time." She told him.

He looked at her shocked, and he watched her bravado melt and she rushed over to him as his balance began to waver. She placed her shoulder under his arm and looked up at him with innocent worry.

"I am really sorry, Adrienne, I did not mean to hurt you so." She told him, her eyes watering and her teeth gently biting into her lower lip. She was in the perfect position for him to steal a kiss, but something held him back. Accustomed to being the seductor, he nevertheless decided to give this girl a break. Why? He didn't know, but there was something about her, something that he didn't want to spoil or ruin. Something he wanted to preserve and have her retain even if she were to finally realize his intentions. After all, not only did he respect her, but he felt something else as well. Whether it was love, or curiosity he wasn't sure yet.

"I think I can forgive you just this once." He told her gently, and she smiled up at him. She looked at him with her intensely beautiful hazel green eyes and began to lift herself onto her tip toes. His heart froze at the thought that this beautiful girl might kiss him, might actually reward him with a gentle touch. Closing his eyes, he stayed as still as possible, waiting for the inevitable.

"A-ha!" she said, and he felt her rip the sheet from his hands. He was completely shocked, he couldn't believe she had used his own willingness against him. Yet, at the same time, he was amused at her ingenuity.

When he opened his eyes, she was smiling brilliantly, unfolding the sheet of paper in her hands. Slowly he placed his hands in his pockets and sidled over to her, as her eyes scanned the list. Her smile fell as she reached the end.

"I'm not on here." She said sadly, her eyes looking up into his. He looked at with curious amusement.

"What are you talking about? Your name is right at the bottom." He said, pointing to the words Belle Lenuit.

"Oh… right, how silly of me, I was so excited I didn't see." She said, her face paling and her cheeks blushing.

He watched as she turned her focus back to the paper, before rolling it up and giving it to him. He took it, all while trying to gain her eye contact, but she diligently refused to look at him.

"When are you going to let me take you to supper?" he asked her, his fingers lingering on her hand as she passed him the paper.

"When you learn to ask me properly." She told him, retrieving her hand from his. Electricity flowed through both of them, a subtle tension in both beings. They smiled at each other tenderly before Danielle turned to walk away.

"I guess I'll be seeing you a lot more, now that you work here." He called after her.

"Really? I assume you'll just love that." She called back to him.

"It might be distracting… don't be alarmed if a few sandbags fall as I gaze upon you from the rafters." He said, bowing his head a touch, allowing a blonde lock to fall into his face.

"I think you'll manage." She told him, before turning the corner. Once she had rounded it, her face broke out in a smile. She leaned her back against the wall, her head resting on against her shoulder. She bit her lip while reflecting on her audacity to tease him. Slowly she peered her head around the corner. Fortunately for her, he had taken off in the other direction.

As she turned her head back around, there stood the man with dark hair.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he told her, when she visibly jumped a bit, "I merely wanted to ask how the audition went."

She watched him cautiously as he shyly smiled at her, seemingly very innocent, but intense.

"It went very well, thank you." Danielle said, bowing her head and beginning to walk away.

"Wait!" the man called out to her, halting, she turned slowly, looking him in the eye.

"I must know your name," he told her, "if it please you to know, mine is Damien." All while taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Why must you know my name?" she asked him blankly, while he still held her dainty hand.

"Pardon?" he asked her, confused by her question. She shouldn't be so blank, she should have blushed at his kiss to her hand, this girl was so odd, and yet he loved her surprises.

"Why must you know my name?" she asked him again, this time more gently.

"Because, your face has haunted me ever since I first saw you, and I thought. 'Well, perhaps she may not be a ghost or a vision if she had a name.'" He said quietly, smiling.

Her eyes lowered from his, she pulled her hand from his grasp, and held it to her chest. Slowly she looked up at him, her face pale and her eyes bright.

"My name is Belle, Belle Lenuit." She told him. There was awkward silence; both Danielle and Damien did not know what to say to each other. Damien wanted to ask more questions, but she seemed to get upset the more he pried. Danielle wanted to get as far away from Damien as possible; he scared her somehow, made her feel watched. She felt like she should ask this monsieur Damien for permission to leave, but she had never had to ask anyone that since childhood.

Damien saw her mild discomfort and decided to depart. "Well, I must be on my way, I have a few errands to run." He told her, bowing his head and stepping away from her. She watched him as he walked away from her; happy that the feeling of butterflies and queasiness went away when he backed up. "One more thing, mademoiselle Lenuit." He told her, turning back.

"I don't know how well you know a young man named Adrienne, if you have met him yet, or have seen him. It really doesn't matter because you will eventually. He is a hunter, and pretty girls are his prey. He is poison to your virtue. I only tell you this to protect you, I wouldn't want to see such a talented and beautiful girl once again ensnared in his grasps." He told her, quiet serious.

"Do you understand, Mademoiselle?" he asked her, "Do you comprehend what I am trying to tell you? I beg of you, stay away from him. He will only leave you with sorrow in the end."

She swallowed and nodded her head slowly. Damien returned her nod in acknowledgement, before turning back and going on his way.

Danielle couldn't help but let the tears fall. So many wrongs with this world above, so many warnings to heed, why was it that, what is considered wrong, always feels so good?

( ' ) '  
-

**_Who scorn his word,  
Beware to those…_**

Damien stormed down the hall looking for his sister, Aimee had to be somewhere, lurking about this place. He had seen how Adrienne had swooped down upon the fine and graceful Belle. He had seen how she had carelessly bantered back and forth with him. What he didn't see was how his own face contorted with rage at the thought of this new girl, giving Adrienne exactly what he wanted. Or how his eyes grew more passionate in her company, causing her such distress.

_That little bastard gets everything he could ask for, and now he wants Belle. Well, I won't let him have her. He just wants her because she is beautiful; I see within her something fierce, something hidden. I want to cultivate that and bring it to the surface; I want to be able to make her a star…_

Just as he turned the last corner, he ran square into Aimee. She made a small sound of surprise and looked up angrily at the man in her way. When she saw it was Damien, her features softened giving her that innocent look that most patrons paid handsomely for.

"Damien, what are you doing in this part of the theatre?" she asked him curiously.

"We need to talk… in private," he added, grabbing her hand and searching for a suitable place. Backing up into the hall from whence he came, he tried a few doors before finding one unlocked. Quickly, he pulled Aimee inside, and shut the door, locking it.

He turned around, to find Aimee sitting on some old crates, examining her ballet costume, seemingly bored. Irritated by her lack of understanding, he growled in frustration and stepped forward. That finally got her attention. She looked up at him with worry.

"What is wrong, Damien?" she asked him.

"You need to work harder on Adrienne, keep him busy. I don't care if you are after his fortune or just his pleasure; I have a meeting with Raoul de Chagny tomorrow. I just want Adrienne out of the way." Damien told Aimee, pacing back and forth.

"Where is this all coming from?" she asked him, slightly surprised by his hostility.

"That little bastard is…" Damien started, but didn't finish. He didn't know what it was, but he couldn't admit that he wanted Belle. If he admitted it to Aimee, or even himself for that matter, he knew he'd lose his edge. He was a thief after all, an elaborate and exaggerated pocket picker, nothing more. What kind of life could he ever give Belle if on the off chance they were ever to succeed? No life at all. He couldn't even get his Aimee off the streets. Rage boiled over once again when he placed Belle's face on memories of Aimee. He saw her standing, cold in the streets. Pressing her little body up against people as they walked by, begging for sex in exchange of money. Her face numb and placid when they looked away, the pain evident from her blank expression.

"Damien, I'm confused, you have explained to me what you want, but now you have to tell me why." Aimee told him, jumping off the crates and walking towards her brother. She took his hand in hers, and looked up into his eyes.

"A new woman has come to the opera. I'm intrigued by her talent, I figure if I could get her into the position of diva, then tell her how she got there, I will be able to funnel money from her success into our pockets." He said, lying to Aimee. "Adrienne is in the way, trying to woo and bed her. It cannot happen, do you hear me, Aimee? It will ruin everything." He spat.

Aimee backed up and read her brothers face in quiet reverie. "Is this girl a brunette with curly locks and hazel eyes?" she asked him.

"Yes." Damien answered, eager to know how Aimee knew her.

Aimee sighed stepped back, "It's too late, Damien, I saw them in the hall days ago. He told me that she was his new courtship. Then they walked off arm in arm." She told him.

Damien looked at her then shook his head. "No… it's not possible, I saw them today, they are definitely not courting. But they could be, if he knew how to handle her or she knew how to respond to him. It's only a matter of time, and we cannot afford to let that happen, do you understand? She will be a star, and I will make her one. He will not get in the way because he will be in your bed. Damn it. Aimee! He cannot have her!" he yelled.

Aimee looked at her brother in mild reverie and subtle amusement. She then nodded her head to herself, finally seeing what all this was about.

"You like this girl." She said with a smile.

Damien looked at her surprised and shook his head "No, no this is about her singing…"

But Aimee continued to nod; his denial was all the more proof to her. "Yes you do, I dare say it… you think you're in LOVE with this girl."

Damien scoffed at the mention of the word love, was it not he himself who told Aimee that love was a wasteful emotion? That more could be accomplished by deceit then by flowers and sunshine?

"I am not." He said.

"That's right, you're not." Aimee told him, taking his face in his hands. "You are not in love with her, do you understand? You don't know what love is." Aimee told him. It had been something he had told her repeatedly throughout their childhood, almost an inside joke. It had been Aimee, who had used the word so carelessly many times over, declaring her love for inanimate things. The world was different these days, and who were a pair of whores and thieves to say they knew love?

"Just keep him out of the way." Damien told her. He then broke from her embrace and left the room.


End file.
